Ruthless Game
by angellwings
Summary: She'd said she was guaranteed to die right? So, if he were going to kill her then why the hell wouldn't she give him a reason to do so? She'd been passing files and tips to the Italians for years on what companies Moreau had his hands in. They were little wins, but at least it was something. Eliot/OFC. Set at the end of season 3.
1. Prologue: Take it and Run

Ruthless Game

by angellwings

Prologue: Take it and Run

So, this was her fucking life. She could whine about it. She could loathe herself and what she'd become or she could take it and run. Try to do some good before her premature death, not to redeem herself but just to make her pathetic life worth something in the grand scheme of things. She was going to hell either way, but if she were going then she'd save some lives on her way out. What was the best way for her to do that in her current situation?

Why, inform on Damien Moreau, of course.

She'd said she was guaranteed to die right? So, if he were going to kill her then why the hell wouldn't she give him a reason to do so? She'd been passing files and tips to the Italians for years on what companies Moreau had his hands in. They were little wins, but at least it was something. Moreau had gotten considerably more irritable as months went on. He was losing money and investments due to seemingly freak accidents. He'd taken some of that frustration out on her but it wasn't anything she wasn't used to. She could take it, if it meant somebody would put him away.

She walked out onto the balcony in her room and smiled at the cityscape in front of her. She hadn't been in the States for an extended period of time since she was 14. That was one of the good things that came from the way the Italians had chosen to come at Moreau. It brought him to the states and subsequently brought her home. An arm snaked around her waist and another across her neck just under her chin. A pair of lips ran across the crook of her neck and she felt someone breathe in her scent. It took everything in her not to shudder in disgust.

"Oh, Claire," Moreau said with a chuckle. "How long have you been with me now? Seven years? Feels like just yesterday I caught you trying to seduce a meal and a bed out of the rich imbeciles at my fundraising dinner. Nineteen years old and all wits and guts. I knew you'd be my favorite from the first moment I saw you."

Did he? Well, he could have at least warned her then. She would have run as fast as she could in the other direction. She took in a slow breath and put on her game face. She'd been grifting since she was 14 and she'd been deceiving Moreau for over 5 years. She could keep going. _She could_ and she would.

She turned in his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled sweetly at him. She purposefully thickened her southern accent knowing it would only add to her deception. "I wish you would have told me that. I would have charmed you sooner."

He quirked a brow at her and grinned. "Even with Spencer around?"

She laughed and shook her head. "If I'd had to choose between you and Spencer it would have been a no brainer, sweetie. Who wants the muscle when she can have the brain?"

He smiled slowly. "Very astute observation, my dear."

He started to lean in to kiss her and she slipped into the mind of her character. She'd created an alternate Claire in her head years ago, who actually cared about Moreau. In times like these that's who she pretended to be. But luckily, she was saved by a knock at the door.

Moreau sighed and reluctantly answered the door. "Yes?"

"Sorry, boss, you said to come and get you when the call came in," his head of security, Chapman, said as he stood in the doorway.

"So, I did," he said before he turned to Claire and winked at her. "We'll finish this later, my love."

She smiled softly at him and nodded. "I'll be waiting."

And she really would be too. He never let her out of the hotels they stayed at. He may claim to love her but he certainly didn't trust her. Which, as it turns out, was a smart decision on his part. He already trusted her with too much information for her own good.

That information was the very thing that was going to get her killed.

* * *

She changed clothes into a form fitting body-con dress, did her make up in the subtle natural way Moreau liked, and then headed for the door of her room. She stashed the phone Moreau let her have in her clutch and hid an extra one in her jacket pocket. She wasn't naïve enough to think that Moreau didn't have her room bugged or that he hadn't stashed a button cam somewhere. She stepped out of her room and was immediately greeted by Chapman.

"What are you doing here?" She asked with a scowl. This was the man who had replaced Eliot. He was inferior to Eliot in every way she could possibly imagine.

"Moreau assigned me to you for the day," he said with a smirk. "It seems he's afraid you might run now that we're back on your home turf."

She rolled her eyes. "Why would I run? I have no where to go and we both know he'd find me before I could make it out of the building."

"Still, he thought it was best if I keep an eye on you until the party later," Chapman told her.

"Party?" Claire asked with a sigh. "You mean that hour and half he spends wooing bimbos in bikinis every where we stop? He doesn't honestly expect me to be there does he?"

"He expects you every where he goes. You know this," Chapman said sternly. "You may want to rethink the way you talk about him. I don't see him tolerating such blatant disrespect."

She scoffed and then chuckled dryly. "I've been with Moreau much longer than you have. I think I know better than anyone what he expects from me. You mind your manners and I'll mind mine. Clear?"

Chapman reached out suddenly and grasped her other arm tightly. It hurt. Really hurt. She was almost certain she'd have a bruise later. He was glaring at her with seething anger. She wasn't quite sure what she'd done to deserve it, but Chapman was unstable at best.

"Now, now," Claire said with confidence she didn't quite feel. "You wouldn't want Moreau to see that bruise at the party later, would you? How would I explain it to him? And how do you think he'd react to another man touching me?"

He scowled and released her forcefully. So forcefully that she rebounded against the wall and hit her shoulder. Hard. Why the hell did she stay here? Why did she stay with these people who cared for her so little? She glared at the hitman and turned on her heel to head toward the elevator.

"I'm going to the bar," she said as she waved a dismissive hand over her head. "Come and get me if I'm needed."

She waited to hear his footsteps behind her but none came. She turned her head ever so slightly and instead found him whispering on his phone. He called someone. She wondered if he was tattling to Moreau. Probably. The elevator doors closed and he still hadn't followed her. She breathed a sigh of relief. That was lucky. It gave her a few minutes head start on him. Not much but enough.

She walked briskly to the bar and worried Chapman would catch up with her before she could manage to make it there without him. She made it and casually glanced around the bar. The security cameras covered every angle but one. She noticed the blind corner and used her peripherals to see if her suspicions were correct.

They were. The Italian was waiting on her. She slipped into the corner booth across from the Italian and wordless pulled a pen from her purse. She unwrapped the silverware from the cloth napkin and scribbled a message.

_Party. Pool. Wear a bikini._

She slid the napkin across the table and then silently left to sit at the bar. Just as she sat down Chapman stepped inside. He observed her coolly as she ordered a Cosmo and sat down next to her.

"Did you tell on me to my Sugar Daddy?" She asked bitingly.

He grunted in response and glared at her again. Did he know that a non-committal response was essentially a yes? Probably not. He was security. Not a grifter.

She sat at the bar and people watched for a long time. It was actually sort of freeing to sit and observe people who were unaware of Damien Moreau's existence. She liked believing that there was life outside of him and that there were people alive who were safe from him. For the most part. Because no one could be safe from him completely.

Finally Chapman stood up and gave her a stern glare. "Let's go. The party's in a few minutes."

"I'm not walking in with the rest of those skanks," she spat. She'd gotten very good at playing off her hatred of Moreau as superiority over everyone else in his crew. She let them believe that being Moreau's favorite had gone to her head. It always worked. "We can wait a few more minutes."

"You can," he told her. "But I can't. I need to be the first one there to inspect the site."

"Well then go," she sneered. "I'm not stopping you."

"If I show up without you he will have my head."

She giggled and took a long sip of her drink. "I'm still not seeing the problem. Whether or not you keep your head is no nevermind to me."

He snatched the drink out of her hand and ripped her up off the barstool. "I am not here to baby sit you, and you are not here to pull rank. We are both here to follow orders. I'm done with your shit, Lanier."

He grabbed her in the same place as before. Yes, definitely there would be a bruise, but she'd pissed him off if the use of her last name was any indication. Which made the bruise totally worth it. Terrorizing Moreau's men was the only fun she had left in life anymore. He dragged her behind him and didn't seem to care about the stares and pitying looks they were receiving as he carted her through the lobby of The Governor Hotel. He kept a tight hold on her all the way to her room. He opened the door with a key, where he'd gotten it she had no idea, and literally tossed her inside.

"Get dressed. You have ten minutes," he spat as he closed the door. She rubbed her red and sore arm and wondered why she didn't use any of the tricks Eliot had taught her on Chapman and just run away. The answer came back from the furthest corner of her mind very quickly.

Because Moreau would kill you before you got the chance to take him down. And she desperately wanted to take him down.

The burner phone in her jacket pocket buzzed and she grabbed her clothes to change into before ducking into the bathroom to check it. It was a risk, but with Chapman watching her every move she'd have no other opportunity.

_"I'm in,"_ it said plainly. She grinned. The Italian had inserted herself into Moreau's horde of poor naive girls. They saw a charismatic man with money and not the cold-hearted killer that he really was. She'd love to tell them all to run and run fast like she should have done all those years ago. But she couldn't do that without blowing her cover.


	2. Chapter One: Let's Catch Up

Ruthless Game

by angellwings

Chapter One: Let's Catch Up

She sighed and changed into her backless gold one piece and black open front cover up. Moreau liked her to be more covered than the other girls. She was different, he'd told her. She was of a separate and better class than the girls they picked up in each city. But when it came down to it, she knew what that meant…

She was his trophy. She represented his victory over the supposedly unstoppable Eliot Spencer. The fact that she and Eliot had once been somethingalways nagged at Moreau. All these years after Eliot left and he still couldn't let it go. Not that she could blame him. He'd defeated her. He'd defeated them. And she was terrified that he'd one day use that to his advantage, or worse use her, to take out Eliot for good.

She wasn't religious and hadn't been for sometime, but every night she prayed that Eliot stayed far away from Damien Moreau. She had a feeling their next meeting would be…messy.

She'd just finished changing when Chapman burst into the room and pounded on the bathroom door.

"Let's go, princess. He's waiting."

She jerked the door open and pushed past Chapman. "If you ever call me princess again, I swear to God I will go Eliot Spencer on your ass. You got that?"

He chuckled at her and then swept his gaze over the length of her body. "Still hung up on him, are you? Well, forgive me, but your threats fall on deaf ears. You could not harm a fly and you certainly don't scare me."

She huffed and stormed out her room with Chapman trailing behind. The elevator was silent as they headed down to the pool and Claire thought it was a miracle. She'd had enough of talking to Chapman for one day. They opened on the pool level and Chapman led her to Damien who was already lounging in a robe on a chez. He stood when he saw her and smiled warmly.

It's too bad that warm smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Darling," he exclaimed. "You're wearing the suit I bought you. Do you like it?"

She nodded and removed her cover up. He'd want to see the full effect of the plunging neckline and her exposed back. She twirled for him and then placed a quick kiss on his lips when she faced him again. Instinctually slipping back into her accent. "I love it, Sugar."

"I thought you would," he said with a grin. "Now, go tell the new girls what they're to do. Will you? I'm not sure we'll be keeping most of them. I need them ready to go when my associates arrive."

She nodded. "Of course, Damien."

"And tell Magdalena she'll be serving today. Compliment her on her choice of swimwear as well for me, dear. She did quite well," he told her with a smirk. She knew what he wanted from her and she played her part well. She crossed her arms over her chest, furrowed her brow, and pursed her lips.

"If I must," she said through her teeth. Her jealousy was forced, but he didn't know that.

He chuckled and walked over to kiss her temple. "No need to worry. You will always be my favorite."

That's what she was worried about, she thought as she smiled at him and then turned to find the girls Damien's men had recruited.

She resisted the urge to wince at the sight of them. These girls were children. The youngest looked barely 18, but then she'd been 19 when Damien found her so that shouldn't be a surprise to her. They had no idea who they were getting into bed with. She educated them on the 'business associates' to look out for at the party. They were there to distract and persuade and keep the men happy and their ego's stroked. No more, no less. They were not to be any friendlier than strictly necessary.

Magdalena had looked nothing short of relieved when Claire relayed Damien's message. Magdalena had been with the crew for just over a year and was starting to understand her mistake. Claire feared the girl would one day end up like her. It was yet another reason to help the Italians take down Moreau.

"Okay," she said with a deep breath. "Does every one know what they're supposed to do?"

The girls nodded but all looked equally nervous.

She sighed and gave them an encouraging look before she leaned toward them to whisper in a conspiring tone "You'll be fine. Just never let them see how intelligent you are. Play the sweet and innocent card and you'll succeed every time. There's nothing these men underestimate more than a woman." She paused and smiled softly when they all seemed to sit up straighter. "Good. Now, places."

The girls headed toward the hot tub to await the guests and Claire returned to her place beside of Moreau. He patted the small space next to him on his chez and she joined him. She leaned back against his chest and worked her hardest at maintaining her role. Never show weakness. Never flinch at his touch, she reminded herself. Pretend to enjoy it like you do everything else. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Damien noticed the bruise on her arm.

"You know," he said quietly. "That would happen less often if you would simply show my men the respect they deserve."

She felt her blood start to boil as it always did during these lectures, but instead of punching him in the solar plexus like she wanted to she gave him an apologetic glance with her biggest most innocent eyes and nodded. "You're right. I know. I'm sorry, but the way they talk to me sometimes, well, you'd never know you cared for me at all with the way they treat me."

"I see," he said tensely. "Well, I will make sure they speak to you with greater care from now on. But you, in turn, must be more respectful. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Damien," she said automatically. "I understand."

"Good," he said before he placed a kiss on her lips. "Now, I'm going to go enjoy the sauna for a moment before our guests arrive. Would you mind checking on the refreshments me for me, love?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No, of course not, Sugar." She stood first and headed back toward the kitchen that was kept on the pool level for private parties. The Italian was waiting for her in the kitchen.

"I've brought in reinforcements," The Italian told her in a whisper. "They should be arriving any day now."

"What sort of reinforcements?" Claire asked as she glanced around to make sure no one was watching.

The Italian merely smirked at her secretively. "Leverage."

She opened her mouth to ask for more information but there was a commotion outside and one of the girls shouted in alarm. Claire hurried back out to the pool and instantly felt the color drain from her face at the sight that greeted her. Eliot was surrounded by Moreau's men with all their guns drawn on him and the man that was with him. Eliot was here.

Eliot.

"No," she whispered under breath. Her skin crawled and all of her fears she pushed aside came raging to the forefront of her mind. He shouldn't be here.

Moreau exited the Sauna and smiled as he spotted Eliot. She knew that smile. It was his cat-that-ate-the-canary smile. This was not good. This would never be good. Moreau held up his hand to stop Claire as she took several steps forward and she forced herself to stand still. She could not let her guard slip. Not even for Eliot.

"That's no way to treat an old friend," he said as he approached the circle of guns.

Slowly Chapman and his men lowered their weapons as Eliot acknowledged Moreau's presence.

"Damien," he said warily.

"Let's catch up," Damien said with that same knowing smile.

Get out, her mind screamed. Get the fuck out, Eliot. She closed her eyes and willed him to change his mind about whatever the hell he was here to do and just get out. He hadn't seen her yet, and she hoped he never did. Let him think she'd found a way out like she'd told him she would. That would be best. For all of them.

Damien was wary of Eliot too and in order to continue talking he insisted to have the other man that came with him handcuffed to a chair. They were giving Damien a story about a deal they wanted to make with him. But any grifter worth their salt could see through that. Damien sat down across from the other man and looked at Eliot as he sat.

"You work alone."

"Things change," Eliot said with his usual blank expression. There was anger just under the surface and maybe a little apprehension, but only someone who really knew him would be able to see that. And Damien had no idea who Eliot was or exactly what he was capable of. He thought he knew, but he didn't.

"Don't take it personally," Damien told the other man. "It takes me a while to warm up to people."

The other man waved off the comment dismissively. He was terrified though. She could see it on him. He was not a trained grifter. They needed to be careful. Damien was far from stupid. He would look for any cracks in their story and if it failed his inspection…

They wouldn't walk out alive. Well, Eliot might, but his friend wouldn't.

Magdalena approached with a tray of champagne glasses and offered them to the two men.

"He prefers beer," Moreau told her as he took a sip of his own drink. Moreau reached behind him and waved Claire over. She gulped nervously. This is what she'd been afraid of. "Claire, darling, fetch the man a beer will you?"

Eliot froze. She froze. And his eyes finally found her in the crew of people. In a flash she saw concern, anger, and resentment and then it was gone. He was back to being stoic. Claire dutifully went to the serving tray and retrieved one of the beers that had been chilling and used a near by serving cart to open the bottle. She slammed the metal lid against it at just the right angle and the lid popped off in her hand. Eliot had taught her that. She approached him slowly but stayed an arms length away as she offered him the beer.

"Claire, where are your manners? Aren't you going to say hello to the man?" Moreau said with a smirk.

She took a deep breath and smiled weakly at Eliot. She leaned into his space and kissed both of his cheeks just as she would any of Moreau's particularly close business associates. She stepped back and dared to look him in the eye. "It's good to see you again, Eliot." She could not let Moreau see how desperately she wanted to latch on to the Hitter right then. She could not let Moreau notice how her face was flushing and her pulse was racing. "You look good."

He gave her a tiny smile in return just before his eyes landed on the hand print sized bruise on her arm. She could have sworn she saw his muscles tense as he replied, "You too, darlin'. You too."

She extended the beer to him again and he waved it off.

"I don't think I'll be stayin' for drinks," Eliot told her as he shifted his focus back to Moreau.

She stepped back to stand by Moreau's chair and he quickly put a possessive arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap.

"Is this one of your retrieval jobs, Eliot?" Moreau asked as he placed a hand on her knee. He was showing her off. Rubbing her in Eliot's face. Of all the things she'd been forced to do over the years, this one felt the worst. She focused on the terry cloth of Moreau's robe and avoided looking at Eliot at all costs. "Tell me, who's Snoopy lunchbox do I have?"

"It's not a retrieval. I'm escortin' the middleman. I'm contracted to make sure he gets in and out with the offer."

His voice made her want to break down and cry right there. Not because of his tone. He had no tone. But just because it was his voice. She never thought she'd hear that accent again, and there it was. But he still felt so far away. She felt his eyes on her and tried to steady her breathing and her heartbeat. Moreau was holding her so close that he'd surely notice if she didn't.

"Pardon, Monsieur," his friend said hesitantly with a truly stereotypical French accent. She was again reminded of how untrained this man was. He had some experience and some training, but not enough to face Moreau. "My client has heard of what you're selling and would like to acquire the Ram's Horn."

That was the big deal Moreau had kept her away from. She recognized the name.

"And your client is?" Moreau asked. He was skeptical and she didn't blame him.

"If you indulge us with the details of the auction we can make a bid. All will be revealed. I assure you we are working in good faith," the man said as he leaned back in his chair casually. Claire grinned to herself. Okay, he was getting better. Maybe it just took him a minute to get into the role.

"I'm sure you are. I'm sure you are," Damien told him. "But I don't know you." He looked up at Eliot and continued. "I do know you. We could talk."

Moreau's hand slipped into her hair as Eliot answered him. There was something hidden in his answer, but she couldn't quite tell what it was. "I ain't much on talking, Moreau."

"Okay," Moreau said in a decisive tone. "Let's keep it short." Moreau shuffled her out of his lap and she stood off to the side as he stood up and kicked the man and the chair he was handcuffed to in to the pool. She would have jumped, except nothing Moreau did surprised her anymore. "I'm sure you told your clients I don't do business with strangers."

"That's why I'm here," Eliot said. "To vouch for 'em."

"Oh, a little vague," Damien said as he shook his head.

"I never told anybody about you," Eliot told him. "I use the same confidentiality with all my clients. However, I can say, they're overseas. You sell it to the international buyers, it leaves US soil immediately – no trace back to you."

Thank god for Eliot, Claire thought. He was turning this game they were playing around. Good.

Moreau looked interested but wasn't sold. "I already have international buyers, so, uh, it's not an issue." He slowly considered his option and reached for his drink. Claire's eyes drifted to the man in the pool with concern. He couldn't have that much time left. "What else you got?"

Eliot glanced hesitantly at Claire and Moreau's men and Moreau go the hint. He turned to all of them and waved them away. "Leave us for a moment." Before Claire could walk away Moreau grabbed her and planted a hard kiss on her lips. The motivations behind it left her feeling dirtier than any of his other kisses. He was trying to hurt Eliot, to throw him off his game and look for any weakness. But, to his credit, Eliot looked undisturbed by the display. Chapman grabbed her bruised arm savagely and she hissed in pain before she even knew what was happening.

Moreau made no move to stop Chapman and kept his eyes on Eliot. She thought she saw Eliot twitch just slightly. She glared at Chapman and longed to punch that self-satisfied smirk off of his face.

"You know, for a moment," she heard Moreau say as she was led to the kitchen. "I thought you were here to take her away from me."

Eliot's gravelly voice spoke but betrayed no emotion. "She made her choice."

And then she couldn't hear them any longer. Chapman closed the door with her and everyone else still inside the kitchen while he stood guard outside it to let them know when they could come out again. Not even a minute later she could hear Damien asking Chapman for the keys to the handcuffs and she was being led out of the kitchen just as the other man was emerging from the pool. She wondered what Eliot had sweetened the pot with to get Moreau to act so quickly.

The man was shivering as he spoke. "And what message I should convey to my employer?"

Moreau laughed and gave Eliot an amused glance. "I like this one." He turned back to the other man. "Glad we could strike a deal." He smirked at Eliot before he continued. "Reminds me of Belgrade." Moreau turned and walked away from Eliot before he found her and smiled brightly. "Did you enjoy the show, my dear?" He asked brightly. "It's always nice to see old friends again, isn't it?"

He was testing her.

She shrugged and made sure to lay on her accent much thicker than she had earlier. "I don't know that I'd call him a friend, sweetheart. Besides, if you ask me he looked a little tired. I think he's getting too old for this."

Moreau grinned at her and laughed. "Yes, you're right. Maybe he is. Glad to see you've left him behind, my love."

"I'm not going to dwell on someone who leaves me," she told him. She crafted this story after Eliot had quit Moreau's crew. As far as Moreau knew, he'd left her and she was angry and resentful about it. The truth was that he'd offered to take her with him, but there was no escaping Moreau for her. She was stuck with him until she could find a way to take him down. For good.


	3. Chapter Two: Turnabout

Ruthless Game

by angellwings

Chapter Two: Turnabout

The next morning Chapman came to get her. Moreau had stayed in his own room last night, which was odd, and the party yesterday had ended abruptly. Chapman had disappeared for nearly an hour and then suddenly Moreau was declaring the party a success and sending everyone home. Now Chapman was standing at her door and telling her to change clothes because Moreau needed to see her immediately. This did not sound good. So, she put on his favorite dress. It was a red curve hugging dress with a scoop neck and thin black belt across the natural waistline. She fluffed her red waves and checked her make up before she opened the door and followed Chapman to the elevator.

She arrived at the pool to find The Italian bound and gagged to a chair. She swallowed her panic and tried to remain calm.

"What in the world," she said as she stopped to stare at the beaten and barely conscious woman. "Why is one of the new girls tied to a chair?"

"Hm?" Moreau asked casually. "Oh, turns out, she's a spy. Italian, I think. That's why you're here. Have you seen her before?"

"Well, just yesterday. She was at the party, but other than that no. I've never seen her," she lied. "Why? Was she following us or something?"

"She's the one that led Spencer and his friend to us," Damien told her. "I should have him killed yesterday. I knew I should have. I'll have to correct that mistake right now, won't I? Take them to the address," Damien commanded as he waved a hand at both The Italian and Claire.

Chapman restrained Claire and jerked her arms behind her back. Shit, she'd been found out. Maybe she could salvage it. She played shocked and confused. "Damien, darlin', what the hell are you—"

"I loved you, Claire. For seven years I loved you," he said calmly as he stepped into her space and then played with a strand of her long hair. "I provided for you, I cared for you, and you repay me by providing information to _her_. I should have seen it before now. Chapman told me he suspected you were up to something but I refused to believe it. Even after yesterday when you showed a minor weakness at the sight of Spencer, I never thought it possible. And then Chapman found this in your room." He threw the burner phone down on the table beside her. "They're full of communications between the two of you. And then _she_ had this napkin in her possession." He waved the cloth napkin in front of her. "I believe that is your hand writing, isn't it?" He paced in front of her as he continued. "Well, my dear, you've unfortunately made yourself a liability now. And as much as I love you I cannot have any liabilities. So, I suppose I'll have to do away with you."

He grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him. How had she been so careless and so stupid? She'd blown her cover that she'd painstakingly built in several years, in one day. He slapped her hard across the face and she bit back a pained cry. She would not let him see her pain. She'd kept it from him for this long; she could do it a little while longer.

And that's when it hit her. Literally, in this case. She was _free_. He knew what she was now. Her cover was blown and she had no reason to keep quiet any longer.

She looked up from the slap he'd given her and smiled. She chuckled before she spoke. "You fuckin' bastard. Did you honestly think I would love you in return? You've abused me, imprisoned me, and fuckin' black mailed me with Eliot's life when I tried to leave. You honestly thought I stayed for you? Yeah, you're right. You should have seen this coming. Jesus Christ, you hired me to grift for you when I was 19! Did you never think I might use those talents against you? _It's what I do_, Moreau, and I do it damn well."

He nodded to the men holding her and one of them twisted her arm further. She gritted her teeth and glared. Moreau had dislocated her shoulder before and broken her wrist, her nose, and her ribs. She'd been through worse than this.

"You really are beautiful," he told her as he ran a hand down the length of her bare arm. He stared at her fair skin the freckles on her arm for a moment before he moved his hand to the back of her neck. He yanked her mouth to his and forced an intrusive kiss on her. She bit his tongue, hard. She tasted blood as he jerked away form her. He immediately punched her across the cheek.

That's when everything went black.

* * *

She woke up in a warehouse, and her stomach dropped. He didn't kill her. Why didn't he kill her? She heard someone struggling to her right and looked to see the Italian, still gagged and bound to a chair, but she looked a lot bloodier than she had before. They'd given her a beating on the way over. Claire couldn't help but notice that she wasn't bound or gagged. Her vision was tinged in darkness and she winced as she realized her right eye was swollen shut and there was a large gash on her cheek.

"Perfect," she muttered. Her shoulders were sore, but not dislocated or broken, and she could taste a disgusting mix of Moreau's blood and her own in her mouth. She sat up slowly and then made her way to the Italian. She pulled the gag out of her mouth and started to untie her hands. "Where are they? I know they didn't just leave us here."

"We're the cheese in the mousetrap," The Italian said with a sigh. "My reinforcements are coming." The Italian motioned to Claire's eye and then smirked at her. "You know you're a bit insane, right? The way you went off on Moreau—"

"He's gonna kill me either way. The least I can do is give him a piece of my mind before he does."

"You _bit_ him, and not in a fun kinky way."

"He doesn't like biting, not even in a fun kinky way," Claire said with a shrug. "I knew it would piss him off. Can you stand? You leg looks awful busted up."

"I'm fine," she said as she stood from the chair and glanced around. "We need a way out."

"If I know Moreau, and I do, there is no way out. He'll have at least ten men hidden in this warehouse waiting for us to try and leave," Claire said as she too tried to get a feel for the large space.

Suddenly, they could hear voices and Eliot and a shaggy haired man rounded the corner.

"What the hell, Claire," Eliot said angrily as he made a beeline for her and placed a hand under chin to inspect her eye.

"It's fine, just swollen. A lot," she said with a wince. "You gotta get out of here. This is a big fuckin' trap."

Eliot nodded but kept his gaze on her black eye. "We were starting to notice that. What are you doing here?"

"I blew my cover like an amateur," she said with a sigh. "What are you doing here?"

"We were trying to con Moreau, but it seems he figured it out," Eliot told her. "When you say you blew your cover, you mean you were working with her?" He asked as he gestured to the Italian who was having a conversation with his friend.

"I've tipped her off to his business dealings for the last five years," she answered. "If I was going to be stuck with him then I was going to make it mean something."

The look Eliot gave her was questioning and concerned. He looked like he wanted her to elaborate but there was shuffling to the right of them and the clicking of a lock. They'd closed off the easy exits. He looked to the shaggy haired man and then glanced around the room. "Nate, we gotta go."

Eliot's hand encircled her wrist and he pulled her forward with him. His friend, Nate, helped the Italian walk. Claire had been right. Her leg was busted up.

"You guys are working with The Italian too?" Claire asked in a whisper.

"We were. She blackmailed Nate into it," he answered. A phone rang and they all looked over to see a burner phone in the Italian's hand. "I got it," Eliot said with a growl as he grabbed the phone and answered it. "Moreau." She didn't know what Moreau was saying but Eliot looked enraged. His grip on her wrist tightened slightly and then he said, "Well, then I'll see you soon." There was another moment before Eliot hung up the phone abruptly.

"Eliot," his friend, Nate, asked. "Are we in trouble?"

"Oh yeah," Eliot answered. "Come on." Eliot led the four of them through the maze of containers and shelves. It was dark and hard to see, but Eliot didn't hesitate when some one appeared in front of them with their gun drawn. The man was on the ground before the rest of them had really registered his presence. Eliot looked around the corner and they all heard the unmistakable sound of multiple guns cocking.

"So," Claire asked in a sarcastic whisper. "Who wants to go first?"

Eliot rolled his eyes at her and then returned to analyzing their possible escape routes.

Nate motioned to the door across from them. "So, we just have to get to that door."

"That's a kill box," Eliot told him. "There's too much space between here and there."

The look in his eyes changed and Claire bit back a sigh. She knew that look. That look meant he was about to do something incredibly violent and possibly self-sacrificing. The man took the possibility of being shot far too lightly for her taste. He always had. Eliot looked past her and Nate to the Italian.

"Are you sure you can actually take down Moreau?" He asked.

The Italian considered him for a moment before she responded. "Absolutely."

Eliot's gaze landed on the gun the man he'd taken out had dropped and he picked it up.

"Eliot, Listen—" Nate started to say.

"Get them out of here," Eliot told him. The next moment Nate was dragging both Claire and the Italian along while Eliot gave them cover fire.

"You better make it out alive," Claire muttered to Eliot as she sprinted passed him. He didn't acknowledge her and she didn't expect him to. But she knew he'd heard her. They left the sounds of gunfire behind and ran toward the airport hangar. Barely even steps outside of the warehouse someone grabbed Claire from behind. Nate and the Italian didn't look back, so they didn't notice. She was glad for that. There wasn't anything they could have done anyway.

She stomped down on her assailant's instep and was thrown forward. She spun and glared. "Chapman."

"Looks like I've been assigned to you again," He said with a smirk. He stepped toward her and she stood her ground. She wasn't running from this. He leaned his face toward hers until he was centimeters away. "I'm going to enjoy this."

She rolled her eyes and sighed tiredly. "You enjoy every kill. I'm not surprised." Without a moment's hesitation she head butted him the way Eliot had taught her years ago. It hurt like a bitch but the surprised yelp Chapman gave as he fell backwards was music to her ears. She was, by no means, a hitter, but she'd learned a few things from Eliot back in the day. Chapman stood and aimed his gun but before he could fire she punched him the solar plexus like she'd always wanted to do. He hunched over and glared at her as he tried to catch his breath. There was an explosion from the warehouse and Claire immediately looked up at it. _Eliot._ Chapman took advantage of her weak moment and tackled her to the ground. Her skin scraped against the pavement as she struggled against him. She knew what his next move would be and she tried to block his access to her throat, but it was no use. He wrapped a hand around her throat and began to squeeze.

She struggled to breath and her vision darkened. There were black spots and things started to blur. She kicked and thrashed underneath him but Chapman never faltered. The next moment though she could breathe again. She wasn't sure what had happened exactly but Chapman was on the ground next to her and his hands were no longer on her throat. She coughed and sputtered as she was yanked up off the ground. She recognized the feeling of Eliot's hand around her wrist and launched herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he wrapped one arm around her waist.

"It's alright, darlin'. I got you," Eliot told her softly.

_I was more concerned about who had you_, she thought to herself as she focused on her breathing. Chapman stood and aimed his gun at Eliot. Eliot held her in one arm and his free hand held a gun. He cocked the gun and pointed it back at Chapman.

Chapman took in Eliot's ragged appearance and the warehouse that was currently caught in a huge blazing fire and smirked at him. "You said you didn't like guns."

"I don't," he said darkly before he fired off four quick rounds. Chapman slumped to the ground and Eliot emptied the clip from his gun and then dropped it on the pavement. "Never said I couldn't use 'em."

He turned to inspect her for injuries and she focused her gaze on him. He'd gone inward and gone dark and gone angry. His eyes burned and he brought a surprisingly gentle touch up to her swollen eye. He ran a thumb across the large gash on her cheek and then took her hand in his. He sprinted in the direction Nate and The Italian had gone and pulled her along with him. His momentary pause to look at her eye seemed to spur him into action. He let go of her hand, just outside the hangar, and shouted over his shoulder at her.

"Stay there."

She nodded and did as he asked until she heard a gunshot. And then nothing could stop her from running after him. When she burst through the door Moreau's plane was taking off and The Italian was writhing on the ground with Nate standing over her while Eliot glared at the plane.

"Eliot! Eliot!" Nate yelled.

Eliot turned and headed toward the Italian. He removed his jacket and wrapped it around her. The Italian was the one he'd been shot. Eliot used his jacket to try and stop the bleeding while Nate kept her conscious as they waited for the paramedics. Moreau was gone. They hadn't taken him down. They'd just barely escaped. And no one escaped Moreau for long. He could still kill them from San Lorenzo, which just had to be where he was headed. No one could touch him there.

The paramedics arrived and Eliot and Nate let them take over with the Italian. They both made their way to her.

"I don't think we've been introduced," Nate said as he held a hand out to her. "Nathan Ford."

She looked between Nate and Eliot hesitantly. Eliot nodded to indicate it was okay before she shook his hand in return. "Claire Lanier."

"You worked for Moreau?" Nate asked.

She nodded. "That's the way it started out at least. I helped grease the wheels for his business deals."

Nate smirked at her and nodded. "Charm and disarm. Good strategy. So, you're a grifter then?"

"A damn good one," Eliot said with a tiny grin.

Claire scoffed. "If I were really that good I wouldn't have blown my cover. But, hey, could be worse. I survived, didn't I? I honestly thought when this day came I'd already be dead, so there's that."

There was a look exchanged between Nate and Eliot before Nate excused himself and headed back to the ambulance where The Italian was being treated.

"You said something earlier—"

"Eliot, I don't know that now is really the—"

"No, listen," Eliot said with a huff. "I've been walking around all these years wondering what the hell happened to you and why you didn't leave with me, but I never once thought you'd stay with him. I thought you'd find your way out, but you didn't and I want to know why." He gave her a stern look and she sighed.

"Where was I going to go that he wouldn't find me?" She asked him. "He found out that we were planning to leave and gave me a choice: he could take your life or my freedom. Either way he was going to take something from me."

Eliot shook his head. "I could have looked after myself, you know. You didn't have to do that."

"Maybe you could've the first few attempts, but eventually he would have gotten to you," she told him. "You know him. He doesn't stop until he wins. So, yes, Eliot, I did have to do that. But if I was going to have to pretend to love him then I was going to make something good come of it. So, when she offered me the informant gig I took it. My only way out was to take down Moreau."

"I would have come back for you if I'd known," he told her. She knew it was the truth as much as he did.

"Which is exactly why you never found out," she told him.

He shook his head at her and growled. "Crazy woman, I should have thrown you over my shoulder and made you leave. I shouldn't have given you a choice."

She smiled at him. "But then you'd be no better than Moreau. You're a lot of things, Eliot, but you're not like him. You never could be."

He gave her a small sad smile and her mind flashed back to the first time she saw him. He'd worn that same smile as she introduced herself. Like he knew what she was getting herself into even if she hadn't.

"You're different," Eliot said after a moment.

She nodded. "So are you."

A tense silence built up between them as the years they'd been apart floated to the surface. He'd gotten a little warmer and she'd gotten a little colder, and neither were the people they were when they'd met. But then…maybe that was better.


	4. Chapter Three: Leverage

Ruthless Game

by angellwings

Chapter Three: Leverage

"Did I or did I not see you head-butt Chapman before?" He asked with a furrowed brow as he broke the tension that had formed between them.

She laughed genuinely and grinned at him. "You saw that?"

"I was trying to make my way to you but I was so far away I couldn't be sure. You head-butted him? Really?" He asked with a proud grin.

She chuckled and nodded. "You taught me how. It had to come in handy sometime. Hurt like a bitch, though."

"Did Chapman cry?" Eliot asked with a grin.

She smirked back at him. "Sort of. It was more like a strangled yelp. Still a beautiful sound though." Eliot had a moment where he looked down at the ground with a guilty expression. He'd definitely softened some in the years they'd been apart. The Eliot she knew before didn't let his guilt over his past jobs show. He felt it, sure, but he never let anyone see it. She placed a hand on his arm and caught his eye. "Hey, the bastard had it comin'. You know he did."

He covered her hand with his and nodded. "I know." His eyes fell on her black eye again and he sighed. "We need to get you something for that and let the paramedics take a look at that gash." He led her toward the ambulance and motioned to the bruise on her arm as he did so. "I saw that the other day. What is that?"

"Chapman's way of trying to put me in my place," She said with a shrug. "It didn't work."

She could tell the casual way she shrugged off black eyes and bruises was bothering him. But what could she say? You deal with the hand you're given and when you live with violence for seven years, well, it just sort of _is_. Yes it's terrible and yes it hurts, but it's unavoidable. So you either get used to it or let it break you.

She decided to get used to it. She was also certain that once she realized she was actually free of Moreau she was going to be in for an emotional awakening. Everything she'd neglected letting herself feel the last seven years would make it's way to the surface. To be honest, that terrified her more than Moreau himself. The paramedics bandaged the gash on her cheek and gave her icepack for her eye. They asked if she felt she needed to go to the hospital and checked her for signs of a concussion. When they couldn't find any she politely told them she would pass on the hospital. She hated hospitals.

She made her way back to Eliot and Nate as three other people joined them. She recognized one as the Frenchman Moreau had thrown in the pool.

"What is she doing here?" the man asked as he pointed to her.

"She was working for The Italian, man. She's one of us," Eliot sneered

"But you're arm candy," he told her.

She rolled her eyes at him. "And you're French accent is terrible. Very cliché."

Spencer grinned at her and the dark haired woman smacked Hardison's arm.

"You went French? I've told you, your French accent is your weakest one."

"Hey!" the man said as he dodged a second smack. "It was the first thing that came to mind! Geez. I survived, didn't I?"

"Thanks to Eliot," Claire said with a chuckle. "If it weren't for him there is no way Moreau would have let you walk out of there."

The dark haired woman quirked a brow at her and held a hand out to her. "Sophie Devereaux."

Claire's eyes widened and she quickly shook her hand. "_The _Sophie?"

"You've heard of me?" Sophie asked with a grin.

"Just barely," Claire told her. "And considering the legendary jobs I've heard you pulled off that probably means you're the best in the business."

Sophie chuckled at her. "I don't know about the best—"

"No," Nate interrupted her. "She's right, you're the best."

"And who's the guy who's bad at accents?" Claire asked as she looked at the man standing next to Sophie.

"Hardison," he grumbled. "Hacker."

"Ah," she said with a nod. "That makes sense."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" Hardison said with a glare.

"Is he always this much fun to mess with?" Claire asked Eliot with a smirk.

"Yes," Eliot agreed before he motioned to the blonde. "And this is Parker."

"Wait, _Parker_?" Claire asked as she turned to the blonde. "We met once! At the Louvre in 2003. I almost took the fall for that one. If it wasn't for the fact that the insurance company had never heard of me I wouldn't have gotten away." She smirked at her and shook her hand. "You're not hanging upside down like a bat so I didn't recognize you."

"Oh, that's right," Parker said with a grin. "I remember you! You don't do art." Parker did an impression of Claire's accent and Claire chuckled at her.

"That's right. I would have no idea what to do with it. I prefer money."

"Can't say I disagree with you," Parker told her.

"What were you doing at the Louvre?" Eliot asked her.

"What? I like culture," she said with a playful glare. "And my date was about to pay out for a serious collection of lost art, that I didn't actually have. It was part of the con."

"You would have just barely been 19," Eliot said with a grin. "Who would believe you had a collection of lost art?"

"If I couldn't make them believe it, Eliot, then I wouldn't be much of a grifter, would I?" Claire asked him with a smirk as she put the ice pack back on her eye. "But, thanks to Parker, the deal fell through. You owe me millions of dollars," Claire said as she pointed an accusing finger at Parker.

Parker smirked and shrugged but said nothing.

The group of them walked over to the ambulance where the Italian had been bandaged up and was lying on a gurney. She and Nate spoke in Italian, which thankfully, Claire spoke. They're exchange translated to her thanking him for saving her life and him dismissing it by saying she would have done the same for him.

"No," The Italian told him truthfully.

Nate tilted his head at her. "Well, then I'm glad he didn't shoot me."

"You're a free man, now," she told him.

Nate disagreed with her. "The job's not done."

Claire gave Nate an impressed look. Was he crazy or eccentrically brilliant? What else did he think he could do to Moreau?

"The job is dead," The Italian told him.

Claire nodded in agreement. "She's right. Moreau's gone to San Lorenzo. This is over."

"It's a tiny little island country with no extradition treaty," Hardison told them. "With anyone."

"You couldn't touch him in your own country," The Italian said. "How can you touch him in his?"

Nate turned and walked off and Eliot motioned for Claire to come with them. She nodded at the Italian and said goodbye before she followed the group.

"What now?" Sophie asked.

"Now we go get him," Nate told them.

"To San Lorenzo?" Eliot asked doubtfully.

"To San Lorenzo," Nate answered.

"Nate," Sophie said worriedly. "What are we going to do when we get there?"

"Finish the job," Nate told her vaguely.

But how? Claire asked herself. It seemed like an impossible task to her. She caught up with Eliot and leaned toward him to whisper. "Is this what you do now? Take down bad guys?"

Eliot nodded. "Do you have anything you need at the hotel?"

"Well, yeah, but that place is bound to be crawling with cops and FBI by now," she told him.

He shrugged. "It's nothing Parker can't get through. Right, Parker?"

Parker nodded. "Easy peasy, and besides I owe you, right?"

She sighed and nodded. "Okay, then. Room 514, just the duffel inside my closet. I don't need anything else."

"On it," Parker said as she grabbed Hardison and ran off toward Sophie's rental car. "We'll meet you at the airport."

Hardison tossed them an envelope. "Airplane tickets are in there. I still need to get one for Arm Candy, but I can work that out while Parker's getting her stuff." He gave Eliot a questioning look. "I'm assuming she's coming to Boston with us?"

"You assume correctly," Eliot told him. "Hope you don't mind," he told her. "But you're staying at my place until we take care of Moreau. He may be on his way to San Lorenzo but that doesn't mean he's given up and I'd feel better if I could—"

"Keep an eye on me," Claire finished for him. "I get it. It's fine."

To be honest, she was relieved. Eliot was the only person she really trusted at all now.

"So," Sophie asked as they got into the car Nate and Eliot had driven over to the warehouse. "What's your story? You don't have to share anything you don't want to. I'm just curious how you ended up with Moreau."

_And how you know Eliot_ was implied in her expression. Once the car had started and was on the road she contemplated how to answer.

"Damien caught me trying to pull a con on one of his business partners. Typically, he would have just killed someone like me, but I guess…well I guess he liked me. So, he hired me to work for him. Eventually, his liking me became an obsession I suppose. He turned dangerous. Eliot tried to get me out once, but when a man like Moreau sets his mind on something…there's really no where to run, you know?" She told her. She left out all the details, like the abuse and her relationship with Eliot. She figured someone like Sophie had a talent for reading in between the lines anyway.

"I do know, actually," Sophie said with a sympathetic smile. "So, have you pulled any jobs I may have heard of?"

Claire smirked wryly. "No. I stuck to small time stuff. Just enough to get by. That failed Louvre job was the biggest thing I ever attempted on my own. Honestly, I mostly grifted to survive and try to find my way back here, to the states."

"How did you end up in Europe in the first place?" Nate asked. "You clearly started awfully young."

These people seemed nice and Eliot trusted them, but that still wasn't enough for her to tell them everything. "Family obligation," she said vaguely. "What about this?" she asked as she motioned to the three other people in the car. "How did this happen? In fact, what exactly is _this_?"

Eliot grinned and handed her a card out of his back pocket. "Leverage Consulting."

Claire laughed. "So that's what she meant. The Italian said she'd brought in reinforcements and when I asked what kind she simply said: Leverage. She meant all of you."

"We teamed up on a job for a client years ago," Nate told her. "It was supposed to be a one off, but it…escalated. Now we work for the good guys. The people who need it."

"We're a team," Sophie told her with a smile. "A _very_ good one."

Claire looked at Eliot and chuckled. "Things really have changed. Eliot Spencer working on a team. I never thought I'd see the day."

"Yeah, well, it has its advantages," he told her.

She smiled warmly at him before she spoke again. "Teamwork looks good on you, Spencer. It's a nice change."

His blue eyes met hers and he nodded with a small smile. "Thanks."

And with that a comfortable silence fell over the car. Each one caught up in their own thoughts and reflections. Claire was wondering how Nate thought his team was going to get to Moreau in San Lorenzo and praying that whatever they did…they made it out alive. Eliot cared about these people, she could tell, and it was rare for him to let that show. To let people know that he was attached to things was dangerous in his line of work. He'd told her so once up on a time. For him to stay with them and work with them it meant they meant a hell of lot to him. For his sake, she needed these people to stay safe.

* * *

They waited at the airport for fifteen minutes, tops, before Parker and Hardison arrived. Parker threw her the simple black duffle and Claire beamed at her.

"Damn, you're good," she told the thief.

Parker smirked and nodded. "I know."

"Hope you don't mind," Hardison said as he handed her one of her wallets that had previously been inside the bag. "I used one of your IDs to book the ticket. Do you know you have about 10 different IDs in there?"

"Yeah, well, you never know when you'll need to make a break for the nearest border without your real name raising any flags, do you?" she asked him pointedly. "Which one did you use?"

"Catherine White," he told her. "It matched the alias Parker is using for this trip so I thought that would be best."

Parker's eyebrows shot up and she looked at Hardison eagerly. "Oh, I'm Alice today?"

"Yes, and she's your sister," Hardison said as he pointed to Claire.

"Cool! I love Alice! People like her who don't like me."

Eliot sighed. "Parker, you _are_ Alice."

Claire had to check in at the ticket counter since Hardison hadn't been able to print out her ticket. Once that was done the group made their way through airport security and then to the plane. Claire ended up sitting next to Parker for the plane ride.

"So, _sis_, hope you don't mind, but I raided your jewelry before we left," Parker told her.

Claire laughed softly and shrugged. "Sure, why not? It wasn't mine anyway. It was Damien's."

"He sure bought you a lot of diamonds," Parker said she glanced down at the diamond pendant around her own neck.

"Men do that when they think they can buy a woman's love," Claire told her. "If a man ever gives you expensive jewelry for absolutely no reason, I suggest you run. It's the first sign that things are about to go bad."

"Noted," Parker said with a nod.


	5. Chapter Four: Sacrifices

Ruthless Game

by angellwings

Chapter Four: Sacrifices

The plane landed at Logan International Airport an hour and a half later and from there the team split up to their individual homes. Eliot had a very nondescript apartment in a highly populated part of town. She'd never been to Boston before but it reminded her of Oslo, and she'd loved Oslo. That was before Moreau had started keeping her locked up in their hotels so she'd actually gotten to explore while they stayed there. It was beautiful.

If Boston was anything like that then she had a feeling she'd love it too. Eliot let her into his apartment and then shut and locked the door behind them.

"The guest bedroom is in the corner over there," he told her as he pointed to the closed door in the far corner. He then placed a key in her hand. "And that is your key. I have a feeling the team's gonna be headed to San Lorenzo pretty soon so you'll need that. I've already arranged to have a friend of mine check in on you in the event that I have to leave sooner rather than later."

He took her duffel bag from her and set it on his couch before he continued rattling off instructions. "There's a grocery store the next block over. I've stashed emergency cash in the floorboard under the coffee table; you can use that for expenses. I wouldn't travel too far away from the apartment until you get confirmation from me that we've put away Moreau. You gotta stay put until then; we don't know what he'll do when he finds out you're still alive. If you do need to go somewhere let me know so I can have someone trustworthy tail you, okay?"

She blinked at him and tried to absorb all the information he threw at her and remember all of it for later. So, she'd escaped Moreau but somehow she was still trapped. Not only that but she was going to have someone watching her every move again. She was still a prisoner. She felt panic rising in her chest and were she still in Moreau's crew she would have swallowed it back down and put on a brave face but for some reason she wasn't able to that this time. At least not quickly. She rubbed a hand across her forehead and focused on her breathing to calm herself down. Were things ever going to change? What if they never stopped Moreau? What if Moreau killed them all and then came after her?

Eliot must have noticed the change in her demeanor because he was by her side immediately. "Hey," he said softly as he tried to get her attention. She didn't look up at him but he continued anyway. "This isn't forever. It's just for now. I'm not gonna keep you trapped here, Claire. I'm not him."

What? That wasn't what she was worried about at all. How could he think that? This time she did look up at him. "I _know_ that, Eliot. I would never think that you would…I told you. You're not like him. You never could be. It's just…I'm…I'm away from him but it feels like he's still here. I can feel him looming over everything. I keep thinking about all the what ifs and all the damage he's waiting to do and it feels like nothing will ever change. I'm going to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life and there's nothing anyone can do to…to—"

She felt tears in her eyes and tried desperately to stop them. She hadn't cried in years and she wasn't going to now. Not in front of Eliot. Not here, not now.

"Okay, okay," Eliot said soothingly as he pulled her to him and sat them both down on his couch. "He's not going to win this time. I promise."

She rested her head on his shoulder and then wrapped her arms around his chest as he held her tighter. She let out a watery laugh and shook her head against his shoulder. "You can't promise that."

"No, I can't," he said honestly. "But I want to. I want to promise you that."

"If I'd left with you back then, do you think we would have survived?" She asked him. "Do you think we would have been able to escape Moreau, really?"

"It's hard to say," he told her as he rubbed her arm comfortingly. "I'd like to say yes, but you were right earlier. He wouldn't have stopped. We never would have had a moment of peace."

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she felt tears wetting her cheeks.

"What are you sorry for, darlin'? You didn't do anything wrong," Eliot assured her. "You were trying to protect me and there ain't nothing wrong with that."

"I'm sorry that being involved with me pulled you into that mess to begin with. If it weren't for me then Moreau never would have given you that job—he was playing with you because he knew I liked you. _That_ was my fault. I should have known better than to—"

"No, don't you apologize for that," Eliot told her in a stern tone. "Don't apologize for how you felt, then or _now._ That was all him. Besides, he knew I liked you as much as you liked me. Neither of us was very discrete. He was the one who took advantage of that. You didn't do anything wrong. I've never blamed you for anything so you shouldn't blame yourself."

She nodded against his shoulder and then closed her eyes. It was difficult not to blame herself to be honest. She replayed the situation over and over again in her head and each time she could pin it to her actions that gave them away to Moreau. Not Eliot's.

"How's your eye?" Eliot asked as he placed a hand under her chin and lifted her face so that he could see her.

"The swelling's gone down a bit," she told him. "I can see out of it."

His eyes narrowed on her face and then he picked up her left wrist and examined it as well. She had no idea what he was doing but he seemed determined. He placed a hand on the back of her shoulder and pressed lightly. She hissed and nudged him away.

"Ow! What the hell, Spencer?"

"When did that happen?" He asked.

"I don't know, during the struggle with Chapman. Or yesterday at the hotel. It's hard to say really. It's just a bruise. No big deal."

"And your nose, when did you break your nose?"

She brought a hand to her nose and gave him a strange look. "Years ago. How the hell did you know that I—"

"There's bump on the bridge of your nose that wasn't there the last time I saw you," he explained. "And your left wrist isn't aligned straight, and neither are most of your fingers on that hand. Your wrist and your hand were broken at some point too. Jesus, Claire, what the hell did he do to you?"

"Does it matter?" She snapped. "It happened, it healed. It's done. It's not like we didn't all know he's a horrible man, Eliot."

"Claire," he said with a sigh. "Really, are you okay? I don't mean, physically, either. You were with him for seven years. That's longer than anyone else in his organization. From what I can see he put you through hell and no one would think any less of you if you weren't okay. You know that right?"

"I'm fine," she grumbled as she looked away from him. "Can we drop it, please?"

"You're not fine," Eliot told her. "But if you don't want to talk about it then I'm not going to make you."

"Thank you," she told him softly.

"I should have been there," he said as he took her left hand in his and studied her wrist and her fingers again. "I should have gone back to make sure you'd gotten out."

"Eliot, no," she told him. "Don't do that. If I'm not allowed to blame myself then you're certainly not allowed to blame yourself either. None of what happened to me is on you. None of it. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I don't want you thinking this is your fault. I chose to stay. It was my choice. Not yours."

"And you just _let me_ think you'd ditched me," He said with a teasing smirk. "I thought I was the self sacrificing one."

She grinned slowly and chuckled at him. "I think that's a title we can share, Spencer."

"Yeah, you think so, huh?" Eliot asked as he used the hand he still held to pull her closer. He slowly pulled her into his lap and she gave him a challenging smirk.

"What do you think you're doing?" She asked with a small suspicious smile.

"Well, I guess that's up to you, sweetheart," he said with a grin. He had one hand on the small of her back and the other was resting on her knee. It had been years since they'd been this close and the tension between them seemed to crackle and hum like electricity. She closed the distance between them and pressed her forehead to his. She brought one hand to his face and caressed his cheek.

"God, I've missed you," she said before she leaned in and kissed him slowly. She noticed the difference in this kiss than any of her other recent ones. It was tender and gentle and full of care, and so so slow. Almost painfully so. God, she was loving it. It had been a very long time since she'd been kissed _like this_. Like someone actually wanted her to enjoy it too. Their lips and tongues tangled together and hands roamed. There was nothing else in this moment other than the two of them. It was everything she'd wanted for years.

His phone rang and Eliot growled against her mouth. She chuckled and pulled away from him.

"Should you get that?" She asked.

"Unfortunately, yes, I should," He said through clenched teeth as he pulled the phone out of his pocket and answered. "Go." There was a pause and then, "Dammit, Hardison. This couldn't have waited until tomorrow?"

She bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing at Eliot's frustrated expression.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll see you in ten. This better be worth my time, man," he said just before he hung up. "Nate wants to see the team," he told her. She nodded and lifted herself from his lap.

"Should I go with you?" She asked.

He nodded and smirked at her. "I'd like to keep you in my line of sight as long as I can."

"Is that you being protective or hitting on me?" She asked as she grinned and quirked a brow at him.

"Both, actually," he said with a wink. "You ready?"

She grabbed a clutch out of her duffel and glanced through it to make sure she had an ID and a bit of cash. She kept a small amount of it in each wallet, in case she ever had to grab one and run. She put the key Eliot had given her inside the clutch and then wrapped the strap of it around her wrist. "Ready."

He locked up the apartment behind them and as they left his building he reached over and took her hand. She glanced over at him and smiled brightly. She swung their hands between them and then said, "So we're doing this now are we?"

He shrugged and then pulled her into his side and put an arm around her shoulders. "Figured I'd enjoy it while I can. We never seem to be in the same place for very long, you and me."

"No, I guess we don't," she said as she put arm around his waist. They walked two blocks before they reached a local bar. Eliot removed his arm from her shoulders and held the door open for her. She entered the bar and spotted Eliot's team waiting on them. "So, you guys meet in a bar?" She asked him. "It's kind of public, don't you think?"

"That's part of the advantage. We can meet clients here without raising suspicion," he told her.

"Your eye looks better," Parker told her as they approached the group.

"Yes, it does. Thank you. I can actually see out of both eyes again," Claire said as she leaned against the bar between Parker and Hardison.

Sophie leaned toward her and whispered in her ear. "Dear, your lipstick is smudged."

Claire immediately touched a hand to her lips and cleared her throat awkwardly. "There's a ladies room in here, right?" She asked Sophie in return. Sophie nodded and pointed to the back of the bar. "Thanks." She felt Eliot's eyes following her all the way to the back of the bar. Just 24 hours ago she'd thought she never get away from Moreau and yet here she was with Eliot, in Boston, with Moreau hundreds of thousands of miles away. Sure, he still lingered in the air around her but for the moment, this was more than she could have hoped for. She fixed her lipstick in the bathroom mirror as well as the rest of her make up and when she made it back out to the bar Hardison was packing up his laptop and the team was headed to the door.

"Hey," she said as she approached Eliot. "What's going on?"

"We're moving this upstairs," he said as he led her out the door and to the second story of the building.

Hardison stopped and turned to face Claire and Eliot with his arms crossed once they were halfway up the stairs.

"_She _can't come," Hardison said as he pointed at Claire. There was a pause as they all waited for Hardison to continue. Finally, he huffed and then quirked a brow at them, as if they should all understand immediately, before elaborating. "You _never_ let Vicki Vale into the Batcave, bruh."

Eliot glared at him. "She's coming," he said with a sneer.

He looked to Sophie or Nate for back up but neither contradicted Hardison's declaration.

"Seriously?" Eliot nearly yelled. "She's got Moreau after her, man."

"We don't know that," Parker said plainly. "We know she _told us _that. You told us that. But _we_ don't know that."

"She could be a spy for all we know," Hardison said with a nod. "I mean she did grift for him, didn't she? That's what you said."

Again, Eliot looked to Sophie or Nate for help. Nate looked thoughtful, with a hand on his chin, and Sophie had her critical gaze focused on Claire. But neither took a side.

"I'm not letting her into the Loft without more reason than 'Eliot said so'," Hardison said adamantly. "Clearly, she's under your skin, Eliot. I'm not sure your judgment in this case is—"

"My _judgment_ is that she informed on the most dangerous man in the world and was nearly killed because of it. The Italian vouched for her," Eliot argued through gritted teeth.

"Yeah and it's not like The Italian gave us a reason not to trust her either," Parker said in a tone that was so calm that it almost sounded indifferent.

"She was arm candy, man. There's nothing people underestimate more than arm candy," Hardison warned the Hitter. "Nothing."

Claire sighed tiredly and shook her head. "_She_ is standing right here and can hear every word you say. _She_ also has a name. It's _Claire_, by the way. And _she_ does not have the patience for this." She turned to Eliot and put a hand on his arm consolingly. "_She_ will also be waiting downstairs in the bar. It's fine."

She turned with the intention of briskly walking away, but Eliot's hand that wrapped around her bruised arm stopped her and forced a wounded hiss to escape her mouth. Eliot released her arm like _he'd_ been the one to hurt her and then spoke with the same sneer he'd used earlier. "Dammit, Hardison. She cannot wait in the bar. There are too many unknown factors down there and I have no visibility on her when she's on a completely different floor. At this moment, I don't give a shit whether or not you trust her. My only concern is making sure _she_ stays alive until we put away Moreau." Eliot turned a determined look on Sophie and Nate. "You send her down to that bar without one of us and you risk her _life_. That's not going to happen while I'm on this team."

She didn't blame them for not trusting her. Honestly, she wouldn't trust her either. But Eliot seemed to take offense to the fact that they didn't trust _him_ and his opinion regarding her. There was tense silence as Parker, Hardison, and Eliot all looked to Nate and Sophie for the final word.

"She could be useful," Nate said finally. "She was inside Moreau's organization for seven years. She might have information we need."

"Broken nose, broken wrist, broken fingers. All healed," Sophie announced. "Bruise on the upper arm. Black eye and a huge gash. She's been using her non-dominant hand more than her right so I'm guessing there's something bothering her right shoulder. I would say there's a knot or a bruise there." She turned to Parker and Hardison with a quirked brow. "Would you go back to someone who treated you that way?" They didn't respond, but they didn't have to. Claire glared at Sophie from where she stood next to Eliot. Was that really necessary? She wanted respect not pity. She did not want to be a victim. Was it worth it to be let in if they were all going to view her as damaged goods?

"Let her in, Hardison," Nate told him as he gave Eliot an understanding nod.

"But Nate—"

"This is still my apartment, isn't it?" Nate asked him pointedly. "She comes inside. Eliot trusts her. So should we. His instincts are good."

Hardison grumbled but he did unlock the door and let them inside.

Her eyes widened as they entered the apartment. There was a wall of screens and a counter across from it, a living room area, and a kitchen and then stairs that must have led to a bedroom.

"Welcome to the office of Leverage Consulting," Sophie told her with a sweeping arm over the view of the office.

"Which is technically still my apartment," Nate told her pointedly.

"Your apartment in the building that I own," Hardison told him with a grin as he started setting up his laptop.


	6. Chapter Five: Secret's Out

Ruthless Game

by angellwings

* * *

Chapter Five: Secret's Out

* * *

Eliot retreated to the corner of the room and pulled out his phone and she wondered who he was calling. She stuck fairly close to him to avoid wary glances from Eliot's teammates. Hardison spent a few more minutes working on something before he announced. "I'm ready for the run down on San Lorenzo whenever you guys are."

Parker, Sophie, and Nate gathered around the counter and they all looked to Eliot. He waved them off.

"He doesn't need the run down," Claire told them. "We're well informed on San Lorenzo."

Hardison nodded awkwardly as if there was something he was dying to ask about but didn't really want to know and then started the presentation. She drifted to the edge of the living room where Eliot was so she could overhear what his team was discussing. The loft wasn't that big and they were not talking softly. Every now and then Hardison would give her a hesitant glance but he never stopped his briefing.

Why had Eliot decided to work with a team, anyway? They'd once agreed on teamwork. She felt teamwork let things get too complicated. There were too many people in your space and too many judgments that could be made. It interfered with the job and generally slowed things down. But Eliot didn't seem to feel that way anymore. He seemed to genuinely like this crew, even if they didn't always agree. She'd meant it when she'd said teamwork looked good on him, and he _was_ different. Still hard and angry yet surprisingly sweet when he wanted to be. But he was warmer somehow. These people had changed him and she wanted to know _how. _Why did Eliot suddenly decide to become part of a crew? What did they offer him that his solo jobs could not?

She listened to Hardison's facts about San Lorenzo while she watched Eliot talk on the phone. He was smiling, which meant he wasn't talking to a usual contact. But it had to have something to do with the job.

"I'm thinking the Spanish Turnabout," Sophie said thoughtfully.

That brought Claire's full attention back to Eliot's teammates. Hell no, Moreau knows that one by heart. She used it frequently on his behalf. Besides—

Parker made a sound that indicated her disagreement and then said what Claire had been thinking. "No, he's not gonna leave the country. The Turnabout pays off at an airport."

"The Peking Watch Con," Sophie said as she tried again.

_Nice_.

"Nice!" Parker said eagerly.

Alright, so _maybe_ she saw what Eliot liked about these people.

"Guys, guys," Nate said as he interrupted them. "This is Damien Moreau. Now, we got lucky the first time. We caught him on his blind side and he still almost killed us. Now, if he catches wind that we're running a con or a heist that he's seen before, we're done. It's gotta be something new."

"There are no new cons, Nate," Sophie said tiredly.

And any new con was sure to be super complicated and easy to figure out. That's why there were only 7 basic cons with numerous variations. The basics always worked the best. Eliot joined them then and tossed his phone at Hardison.

"Put this up on the big screen," he told him. "Remember I told you I had a friend in San Lorenzo? Make sure it's encrypted, too, because he's taking a big chance by talking to us."

"Oh, so, like, do my job," Hardison said dryly.

"Do your job."

"That I've been doing for years."

"Do your job."

Claire grinned at their exchange and rolled her eyes. Bickering was one of Eliot's first signs of affection. She was sure they'd figured that out by now though. A face appeared on the screen and Claire immediately brightened. The only friendly face she'd ever met in San Lorenzo.

"General Flores, could you please tell my team what you were saying earlier about Moreau?" Eliot asked.

"I've not been General for a long time, _Commander_," Flores said with a friendly grin. "You understand, we've had open elections in San Lorenzo since our independence in 1969. Democracy is, uh, hard, but we were making progress until President Ribera."

Claire scoffed loudly. Ribera, joke of a politician. Moreau was the real power behind the throne. Ribera only did as he was told.

"I know that scoff," Flores said with a chuckle. "Where is she?"

Claire blushed and waved at the screen sheepishly. "Right here, General."

"Glad to see you got away, my dear."

"Um, thank you," she said softly as she stared down at her hands in embarrassment.

Flores then continued filling the room in on Ribera, his history with San Lorenzo, and how Moreau had bought himself the Presidency.

"Anyone who opposes him," Flores said. "Is declared an enemy of the state. They are imprisoned, and by law, their assets are seized, their families bankrupted."

"This is why the General's in hiding. He's your candidate running against Ribera," Eliot told them.

"General, I understand you're taking quite a risk for yourself and your family by talking to us. Uh, we – certainly owe you a debt," Nate said as he came around the counter to stand with Eliot and Hardison.

"No, I'm the one with the debt. Spencer saved my life…_twice_," The General told them.

"Once," Eliot corrected him with a chuckle. "And a half."

"How do you half save someone's life?" Parker asked.

"Cause I was the one that was sent to kill him, so I figure that only counts as a half, right?" Eliot asked with a small smile.

"That actually makes sense," Hardison agreed.

"General, I—" Nate started to say, but he was interrupted by loud crashes in the background. Claire left her spot at the edge of the living room and immediately came around to stand behind Eliot at the sound of the crashing.

"What is it?" Eliot asked.

"I don't know," the General answered as he glanced around the room he was in.

"General is that a secure line?" Eliot asked in a raised voice as more crashing and breaking could be heard in the background. There was struggling and yelling and then suddenly General Flores was on the screen surrounded by Moreau's men. Eliot's muscles tensed and turned to Hardison and shouted, "I thought you said this thing was safe, man!"

"General!" Nate yelled.

"It _was_, man. They just hacked it from the other side," Hardison told him in a panicked voice. "It's serious software like…"

"Manticore?" a new voice asked from the screen.

Claire gasped in surprise and instinctively grabbed Eliot's arm at the sound of the voice. _Moreau_.

"Thank you for destroying Duberman last year. Bankrupted his company, put his old servers on the open market. Amazing what 10 million dollars and some clever tech support can do."

"Moreau," Nate stated as Parker and Sophie joined the rest of them in front of the screen.

"Hey, don't blame yourselves for this," he told them in a patronizing tone. "Ribera makes sure I stay safe so I make sure he stays President. Actually, to be fair, I wouldn't have found Flores if you hadn't contacted him, so, uh, go ahead and _do_ blame yourselves," Moreau said with a laugh.

"You can't just kill a war hero like Flores," Eliot said with a glare.

"No, of course not," Moreau agreed. "We've got U.N. Election inspectors here, world media. No, he's just in prison until after the election. Then he'll have a car accident. You know how these things are done…or, uh, you used to." Moreau paused and looked over the group before he eyes landed on Claire and he smirked. "You would run to him, wouldn't you, my dear? It's always been him. You can't keep her safe forever, Spencer, if how well you protected Flores is any indication. Sleep tight," he said before he severed the connection and the screen filled with static.

Claire released Eliot's arm and ran her hands through her hair as she tried to stay calm. Moreau knew she was alive. Moreau had just threatened her life. _Moreau_ had arrested the General and planned to kill him and potentially his entire family. Eliot walked toward the screens with an angry glare.

"Eliot," Nate said suddenly. She couldn't tell what was being communicated between them but it snapped Eliot back from where ever he'd been and he quickly walked out of the apartment.

Claire glanced around the room for a moment and felt several pairs of eyes on her, all with concern in them. Well, it certainly seemed they all believed her story _now. _Nate started to dial a number on his cell phone as she turned and followed after Eliot.

She found him in the alley behind the bar smashing the hell out anything he could find. This wasn't anything new to her so she leaned against the building and waited. He'd vent and get the most murderous feelings out, but he'd save the rest of the rage for the job. He always did. When the last thing in the alley that could be destroyed was in pieces on the ground he stopped and breathed heavily for a long moment before he turned to face her.

"What the hell was I thinkin' calling him?" Eliot asked rhetorically. "I should have left it alone. I should've—"

"Shoulda woulda coulda ain't ever accomplished anything, Eliot," she told him softly. "Moreau would have found him eventually."

"Yeah, but it didn't have to be because of me," Eliot sneered. "And then…I shouldn't have brought you with me."

She shook her head at him. "You couldn't have known what would happen so don't pretend like being a hitter makes you all knowing. It doesn't. You blindsided Moreau and now it was his turn to blindside you. Shit happens, Eliot. You know what you have to do now and it doesn't include sulking in an alley behind a bar."

"He saw you, Claire. He knows where you are now," he told her as if he thought she didn't know.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, I noticed. I was standing right there."

"Why the hell do you sound so calm then?" He yelled.

"Because it's either pretend to be calm or freak the hell out!" She yelled back. "And I don't think my freaking out is going to help the situation any. Do you?"

Eliot approached her slowly until he stood inches apart from her. "He's right. I can't protect you forever."

She nodded. "Of course he's right."

Eliot furrowed his brow at her. "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence."

She smiled warmly at him. "That has nothing to do with your ability and you know that. At some point I have to take care of myself so, no, you can't protect me forever. There will be things that I will have to face on my own."

"Yeah okay, but this isn't one of them. _He _isn't one of them," Eliot told her as he pulled her away from the wall.

"I don't know," she said sadly. "I think eventually he might be. Not physically or confrontationally, but…I will have to face what he did to me and…_who_ I let him turn me into. And you can't take that on for me or even with me, Eliot. You just _can't._"

"I can keep him from hurting anyone else though," Eliot said darkly.

She grinned at him and nodded. "Now _that_ you can certainly do."

A throat cleared from the doorway and they both turned to find Sophie watching them.

"Nate's on the phone with The Italian," she told them. "He's setting up our entry plan for San Lorenzo. We leave in the morning."

Eliot nodded. "Time?"

Sophie smirked at him. "Should I give you military time, _Commander_?"

He gave her a bored look and didn't bother to answer her. She rolled her eyes and then said, "We're meeting at the airport at 0-500."

"Five AM? Are you kidding me?" Eliot asked.

Sophie shrugged and grinned. "It's a long flight. Have a good night, you two."

"Good night, Sophie," Claire told her stiffly as she turned and walked away. She still wasn't thrilled about Sophie revealing her observations to the rest of the group, but as a grifter and part of a team she had to look out for them first. Claire could _almost_ understand that. She turned to Eliot with a soft smile and took his hand to lead him back through the bar. "Come on, we should go. Apparently, you have an early day tomorrow."

Hardison stopped them on the way out. "Hey, Arm Candy, you coming with us?"

She chuckled sarcastically. If he didn't trust her or want her around why would he ask her that? She fought rolling her eyes at him before she answered. "_Hell no_. If I set one foot on San Lorenzo soil I'm an enemy of the state and arrested immediately. So, I'll stay here, if you don't mind. Besides, you guys seem like a well-oiled machine. I think it's best I stay out of the way." She paused and then glared at Hardison. "Is that gonna be a thing now? You calling me Arm Candy?"

Hardison gave her a smug grin and shrugged. "You answered to it."

She blinked at him and then gave Eliot a confused glance. "Oh my God, I did, didn't I?"

Eliot laughed at her and then nodded. "Afraid so, darlin'."

This time she did roll her eyes at Hardison before she turned to Eliot. "Is this how you feel all the time when you talk to him? Like you just want to punch that smug look off of his face?"

Eliot looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded with a smirk. "Pretty much, yeah."

"Your restraint amazes me," Claire muttered as she shoved passed Hardison and continued to lead Eliot out of the bar.

When they were out on the street and headed toward Eliot's apartment he put an arm around her waist again and pulled her close to him. He cleared his throat and gave her an apologetic look. "How's your arm?"

She glanced at the bruise and then back up at him. "It's fine, really."

"About earlier, I didn't—I wasn't thinking when I—"

"Stop," she told him with a sigh. "You didn't cause the bruise, Eliot. Don't apologize. Honestly, it's fine."

"Still," Eliot said as he gave her a meaningful look. "And, you know, my team is just—there's a lot at stake if they trust the wrong people and it's taken us a long time to even trust each other. It's not easy, but—"

She smiled warmly at him and nodded. "But family never is. I get it. And I get why they didn't trust me. I wouldn't trust me either."

He didn't seem to know how to respond to that but he continued to hold her against his side as they walked. She felt his eyes on her every now and then but, as usual, his expression never gave way to what he was thinking. She was dying to ask but was afraid of what he would say. Did he doubt her too? She didn't know if she could take it if Eliot doubted her loyalty. Not when she trusted him so completely.

They arrived back at Eliot's apartment less than fifteen minutes later and Eliot headed into his bedroom before he came back out with a phone in his hand. He handed it to her before he spoke. "Burner phone. I keep a stash of them in case I need them. While we're gone you can use this phone if you need us. And anyone who comes to check on you while I'm gone will call you on that phone before they come over. If they come over unexpectedly then something is wrong and you should get out as quickly as you can."

"Why is it, every time we come here, you immediately launch into procedures and information?" She asked him with a grin as she put the phone in her clutch.

He didn't crack a smile or even smirk. The look he gave her was heated and full of worry and want and before she had an inkling of what he was thinking his lips were on hers. His hands were on either side of her face and he was kissing her slowly again like he was picking up exactly where they left off. She dropped her clutch and reached her hands up to wrap them around his neck as he deepened the kiss and pulled her even closer.

"Okay," she asked as she managed to pull her lips from his. "So, we're doing this _now_?"

He didn't say anything in response instead he nuzzled her neck and then began to kiss his way up her neck to the corner of her jaw.

"_Oh God_," she said with a whine. "I'll take that as a yes."

He pressed his forehead to hers and smirked at her. "Sweetheart, you and me are gonna have a lot of fun tonight. Trust me."

She had no doubt about that. She was already melting. It had been a long time since she'd really had anything _fun_. She fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled his lips down to hers again. This time while they were kissing his hands reached for the zipper of her dress. She smiled against his lips and removed her hands from his shirt to undo the thin belt at her waist and toss it aside. She kissed him again as he finished unzipping the dress and then stepped back from him to slip her arms out and let the dress fall into a pile at her feet. She had a black eye, fresh scrapes and bruises, and scars from a few old ones and yet he still looked at her like he was ready to devour every inch of her.

It was nearly the complete opposite of the possessive looks Moreau had given her, and it felt…freeing.

She bit her bottom lip and gave him an expectant look as she stood in front of him in a black lacy bra and matching thong. "Your turn."

He grinned and took another moment to look her over. "Yes, ma'am."

He peeled off his shirt and suddenly she was taken back to time when she wasn't so inhibited and he was a familiar danger she couldn't get enough of. They'd been a bit stupid and a lot younger, but _damn_ they'd had fun while it lasted. She stepped back into his space and undid his belt buckle for him and slowly slid the belt out of the loops of his pants and dropped it on the floor next to her dress. She glanced down at the button fly of his jeans and then back up at him.

"You gonna take those off yourself or do I have to do it for you?" She asked as she licked her lips and placed her hands on his bare chest.

He stayed silent but his grin grew a he reached down undid the button fly and then kicked off his jeans. This time it was her turn to step back and observe.

"Happy?" He asked.

She chuckled and nodded as her eyes drifted up his entire body. "Oh yes, the playing field has been sufficiently leveled."

He laughed, placed his hands on either side of her face, and pulled her in for yet another tender open-mouthed kiss. They fell back on the couch and Claire straddled Eliot and let her hair fall around them in a red curtain as they kissed. Eliot had one hand on the small of her back and the other in her hair while she had her hands on his chest. His chest was hard and warm and oddly comforting. Eliot sat up, all the while never ceasing to kiss her, and pushed her back against the couch. She wrapped her legs around him and felt a thrill shoot up her spine as he growled into her mouth and pressed his body closer to hers. His hard body was pressed flush against her softer curvier one.

It was a special kind of heaven that felt a little bit like hell and she had missed it more than she knew. Eliot was right. They were going to have a _lot_ of fun tonight.


	7. Chapter Six: Deal

Ruthless Game

by angellwings

* * *

Chapter Six: Deal

* * *

Several hours later, Claire rolled over toward the alarm clock on Eliot's nightstand. (Yes, they'd eventually moved to the bed but not before stopping a few other places first.) She had no idea what time it was. They'd gotten a bit…carried away.

"It's 2 am," she announced before she rolled back over and curled herself into Eliot's side.

"I have to leave in two and a half hours," he said with a soft chuckle.

"So much for a good night's rest," Claire said with a smirk as she placed a quick kiss on his jaw.

"Worth it," he said in his signature gravelly tone as he softly caressed her bare back "Definitely worth it. Besides, I should be able to get some sleep on the flight. Then again, we are flying commercial."

She chuckled at him. "You sound like that's complete torture for you. The flight from DC to Boston wasn't so bad."

"That was an hour and a half non-stop flight," Eliot said with an amused smirk. "When was the last time you flew across the ocean on a commercial plane?"

She blinked at him and then closed one eye as she thought back through her travels. "Um, probably not since I was 14, I guess."

"See, there you go," Eliot told her pointedly. "You have no idea. Plus, I'm not exactly looking forward to trying to take on Moreau on his home turf. This job is gonna be an uphill climb, even for Nate."

She took his free hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. He looked at her curiously.

"I know it's your job," she said as she took a deep nervous breath. "To get your team to San Lorenzo and back safely. I _know_ that, and I can see that you really care about these people. _But_ you will try to bring yourself back in one piece too, won't you?"

He smiled softly at her. "I always try, darlin'," he said before he kissed the top of her head. "But, I tell you what, I'll try _harder_ if you'll promise me somethin'?"

"Like what?" She asked curiously.

"That you'll be here when I get back," he said seriously.

She froze and gave him a startled look. Yes, okay, she'd thought about leaving as soon as Moreau was out of the picture, in the event that he actually _was_ out of the picture that is, but how the hell did he know that? "Eliot—"

"Don't tell me you wouldn't leave because I know you. It's what you're used to and now that you're free of Moreau you got nothin' holding you back."

She sighed. "I can't stay in Boston mooching off of you forever."

"And I'm not suggesting you should. I told ya, I'm not gonna keep you here _forever_. I just…I want a little more time," he said honestly. "That's all."

She met his eyes and really wished she hadn't. They were boring into her like they could see straight through her. "Okay," she agreed. "But I will be leaving Boston sooner rather than later."

He nodded. "Give me two weeks."

"Two weeks?" she asked curiously.

"We take two weeks between long cons," he told her. "We lay low and let things blow over. It's a rule. Two weeks. That's all I'm asking."

She bit her bottom lip and then nodded. "Okay, two weeks. I'll stay two weeks after you get back, but then I'm gone. Okay? Deal?"

"Deal," he agreed as he pulled her on top of him. He smirked when they were lying chest to chest. "Seal it with a kiss, sweetheart?"

She rolled her eyes and chuckled at him. "You're ridiculous." But she kissed him anyway.

She settled her head on his chest and he gently rubbed a hand up and down the length of her arm.

"Why exactly do you want to leave so badly?" He asked. "Boston that bad?"

She smiled softly and shook her head against his chest. "No, actually. Boston is turning out to be really wonderful."

"Then why?" He asked.

She propped her chin on his chest and looked up at his face. "You know why. If you know me like you think you do then you already know why."

He sighed and nodded reluctantly before he answered. "Independence."

She smiled warmly at him. "See? You do know me. I was 19 when I started working for Moreau. I'd only been on my own a year prior to that. I had so much I wanted to do and I really just wanted to get back here. To the states. But I got myself trapped and the road back home took a lot longer than I anticipated. But now…now I have my chance. I can travel, meet new people, maybe make a name and a career for _myself_. I can't pass that up. I gotta make up for all the time I wasted, you know? Surely, you can understand that."

"Trust me," Eliot said as he gave her a reassuring squeeze. "I do."

* * *

Two hours later, Eliot's alarm went off and though he told her not to Claire got up with him. He showered and got dressed. She, however, only had a couple of changes of clothes in her duffel bag so she borrowed one of his shirts. He sat her down at his breakfast bar and then started pulling ingredients out of his refrigerator.

"Before I leave, I'm making you breakfast," he told her.

She clapped excitedly. "Is your cooking still as good as I remember?"

"Is my cooking still as good as—seriously? Did you just ask me that?" He asked as he gave her a glare.

She laughed and shrugged. "It's been a long time, Eliot. Maybe you've lost your touch. How should I know?"

"Lost my—woman—you sit there and just watch, okay? I will show you—lost my touch. I can't believe you just said that to me."

She'd forgotten how much fun flustered Eliot was. She watched as he expertly made a gourmet level omelet and then made a pot of coffee with a French Press. As usual, if Eliot was going to do food, he was going to do it _right_. He watched her expectantly and motioned for her to take a bite. She bit back a grin and took a small bite of the omelet in front of her. She knew it would be good. She had no doubts, but she'd teased him and he was looking to prove her wrong so she exaggerated her reaction. The self-satisfied smile he threw her way was nothing short of sexy. If he didn't have to leave in ten minutes she would have jumped him right then.

"Told you," he said as he tilted his head at her. "Never doubt my cooking. Ever."

She chuckled and saluted him. "Sir, yes, sir."

He came to sit beside of her and she felt him watching her as they both ate.

"Eliot," she said after a moment. "You have to leave in a few minutes, you cannot do whatever you're thinking of doing."

"Not my fault you look good in my shirt," he told her with a grin. He was looking at her the way he looked at her last night, just before things got…intense.

"God, you're evil. Stop looking at me like that," she said as she felt her cheeks flush.

"You'll be here when I get back right? Two weeks?" He asked again.

She nodded and stood up from her now empty plate. "I said I would be here and I will. You come back alive and I'll give you two whole weeks. I promise."

She passed him to take her plate to the sink but he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her toward him. He kissed her, slowly. This kiss was full of promises and expectations and it was almost too much for her to bear. He pressed his forehead to hers and nodded. "Then I'll see you once Moreau's out of the picture."

She nodded against his forehead then pulled away reluctantly. "You'd better," she told him.

He finished his breakfast and then jotted down four phone numbers on the note pad stuck to his refrigerator and pointed them out to her. "These are phone numbers you might need. The top one is mine, the second one is Hardison's, and the last two belong to my friends who'll be checking in on you. Anything happens or you see anyone suspicious you call one of these numbers, okay?"

She nodded. "Okay."

"If you need to go any further than a block away from here, you call one of those numbers. If there's any trouble at all then you—"

"Call one of those numbers," she interrupted him. "I get it, Spencer."

He glanced at the clock on his wall and then ran a hand through his hair. "I should really go."

"Probably," she agreed. "You wouldn't want to keep the team waiting."

"Really, though," he told her. "Don't call me unless there's an emergency. The only reason we should have contact is if something urgent is happening. I don't want Moreau doing to you what he did to Flores. We go radio silent unless it's life or death."

She nodded. She didn't like the idea of that. How would she know if something happened to him? "You'll call me when it's done, though, right? To let me know you're still alive?"

He nodded and they both walked to the door. She gave him a strange look as he opened the door.

"Where's your luggage?"

"I don't travel with luggage," he told her just before he leaned in and kissed her again. Each kiss felt slower than the first. How was that possible? As he pulled away he pressed a kiss to her temple. "Stay safe."

"Stay _whole_," she told him. She knew safe was too much to ask.

"I'll do my best," he answered before he shut and locked the door between them. She stared at the door for a long moment. He was gone. He was on his way to face off against Moreau in a place that Moreau had bought to cover his tracks. Moreau knew San Lorenzo inside and out. It was dangerous and to do it right they would need to be there a while. A week, at least.

She wouldn't know if Eliot was alive or dead for at least another week.

She needed something to do. She needed something to keep her busy. If not, she was going to go crazy with worry. She tried to go back to sleep, but after an hour of laying in Eliot's bed staring up at the ceiling she gave up. She did the dishes from breakfast and took a moment to make herself familiar with the kitchen. Once that was done, she sat down on Eliot's extremely comfortable leather couch and turned on the TV. She flipped through the channels; Eliot had a ton of them, until she found a world news channel reporting on San Lorenzo's upcoming election.

A phone started to ring and she immediately tried to follow the sound and then she remembered…she'd put the burner phone in her clutch. The dress she'd worn last night and her clutch were underneath the coffee table. She dropped to the floor and reached under the table and then scrambled to get the phone out.

"Hello?" she answered as she blew a strand of hair out of her face.

"Should I call back later?" the male voice asked in amusement while she caught her breath. "You sound…busy. Didn't Eliot leave already?"

"What?" She asked with a furrowed brow. "No, I'm not—I was—I couldn't find the phone, okay?"

"And Eliot said you couldn't be flustered," the voice said with a chuckle.

She huffed. "Who the hell _are_ you?"

"Your friendly neighborhood bodyguard. One of them anyway. Just calling to say hello," he told her.

"Do you have a name, jackass?" she asked as she glared at the floor. This teasing was not putting her at ease.

"Ouch," he said with a chuckle. "Shelley. Just call me Shelley." He paused and then said, "Are you watching news on San Lorenzo?"

"How in blue blazes can you hear that? And…there was nothing else on," she lied.

"Uh-huh," he said in disbelief. "For a grifter that was a really sad attempt at lying. I'm a bit disappointed. Friendly advice, though, don't torture yourself. He hasn't even landed yet."

"How did you know what I was watching?" she asked waspishly.

"Super hearing. It's a talent," he told her. "But, really, change the channel."

"I can't," she admitted with a sigh.

"The more you think about it, the longer it's going to seem like he's gone," Shelley said knowingly. "So, distract yourself."

"With _what_?" she asked. "I know no one here and I've got a psycho criminal after me. Plus, Eliot doesn't own a computer _or_ have internet. Seriously, _what_ do I distract myself with?"

"You could go back to bed—"

"Tried that. Couldn't sleep."

"Did you really, though?" He asked knowingly.

Okay, she thought to herself, so she'd slept in Eliot's bed and worn his shirt and literally everything in that room smelled like him and reminded her of him—she groaned and rolled her eyes at herself. "No, probably not."

"Alright then, so this time _try_. And then I'll bring you lunch."

"Lunch?" she asked.

"Yes, I'll be there at 1 with pizza."

"Pizza?"

"And beer."

She chuckled and spoke up sarcastically. "Well, yeah, of course. You can't have pizza without beer."

"No, you can't," Shelley said seriously.

Her eyebrows rose at the reverence in his tone and she bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. "Okay then, I guess that's a plan."

They ended the call and she changed into the shorts and camisole set from her duffel before settling into the guest room. The air in the room was a bit stale and it was furnished with the bare minimum. Clearly no one had ever actually stayed in here. She buried herself under the covers and, without distractions or memories of Eliot surrounding her, she found herself falling asleep.


	8. Chapter Seven: Visitors

Ruthless Game

by angellwings

* * *

Chapter Seven: Visitors

* * *

She woke up a few minutes before 1 and felt refreshed and well rested. She put on the first of two outfits from her duffel and then put her dress and other things from the night before in the guest room closet. Just as she finished there was a knock at the door. She glanced through the peephole and sized up the man on the other side. He was taller than Eliot, his shoulders were slimmer, and his short hair gave him more boyish charm. He held a pizza box in one hand and a six-pack of beer in the other. She opened the door but didn't let him in.

Shelley smirked at her and glanced over her long red hair, ripped jeans, and white t-shirt with approval. "You are definitely Eliot's type," he said with a chuckle.

She rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks," she said in a flat tone. "So nice to know that I'm one of many."

He winced. "That is not how I meant that."

She stepped aside and let him in. "Do you have much experience talking to women?"

"Hey! Ladies love me," he told her with a charming smile and a wink.

"Yeah, I'm not seeing it," she said with a smirk. "I prefer the strong, silent type."

"Obviously," Shelley said as he sat the beer and the pizza down on the breakfast bar. "Eliot's about as strong and silent as it gets." Shelley walked around the bar and into the kitchen. He pulled down a couple of plates and handed her one of them before he spoke again. "So, Moreau wants you dead, huh? What'd you do?"

"Informed on him to Italian intelligence. Oh, and he's obsessed with me," she said casually as she opened the pizza box. "Do you know how long it's been since I had American pizza?"

"Yeah, that Italian pizza must have been hard to deal with," he said sarcastically.

She blinked at him with an unamused expression. "Funny."

"They can't all be winners," he said with a grin.

"Are you this much of a smartass with Eliot?" She asked.

"Absolutely," he answered. "I'm a smartass with everyone."

"Never would have guessed," she said dryly.

"Are you this sarcastic with Eliot?" he asked her in return.

"Absolutely, I'm this sarcastic with everyone," she said as she repeated his words back to him.

"Smartass and sarcastic," he said as he motioned between them. "That's a good match. I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

She laughed and nodded. "Possibly." She was actually enjoying this quite a bit.

"So, how long have you known Eliot?" he asked.

"I don't know that 'how long' is really the right question for me and him," she said honestly.

"What does that mean?" Shelley asked curiously.

"We met when I started working for Moreau about seven years ago and we had about two years together before it all went to hell. Yesterday was the first time I'd seen him since then" she told him. "So, technically I guess, seven years but really we only had two."

"The job that drove him away from Moreau, the one he won't talk about, you know that is, don't you?" Shelley asked carefully.

She chuckled bitterly. "Do I know? Moreau gave him the job because of me. That was the beginning of the end." She pushed the memory back and refused to think about it. That was then, this is now. Eliot had started over. So could she.

"Do you love him?" Shelley asked suddenly.

"So, you're just gonna dive right in, is that it?" She asked him with a wary glare.

Shelley smiled at her and shrugged. "It's just a question."

"Is this you trying to be one of my girlfriends and gossip? Because I don't have any of those. I wouldn't know," she said as she settled a blank expression on him and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm taking your lack of answer as a yes."

She sighed. "If you ask Eliot if he's ever been in love his answer is 'once'. That once happened long before me and during the two years we had he never said those three words to me. Which is fine. I never expected him to. It goes with the nature of his job. We had a lot of fun, we cared for each other, protected each other but neither of us have said the words."

"That doesn't answer my question," Shelley told her pointedly before he repeated himself. "Do you love him?"

She met Shelley's challenging look with her own defiant one. "If I haven't told him, what makes you think I'd tell you?"

Shelley's face broke out into a smile before he spoke. "Great answer."

"You're an ass," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Yep," he agreed quickly. "It's part of my charm."

"It's really not."

"You know you like it."

He was right. She kind of did.

They finished lunch and had a few beers while they talked some more. Shelley introduced her to Eliot's movie collection and showed her how to work his DVD player. Then he put in some movie she'd never heard of called Quigley Down Under.

"This is Eliot's favorite," he said as it started.

"Does he own a movie that's not a western?" she asked.

"No," Shelley answered. "None."

She sighed and then chuckled. "Great."

She had to admit, the movie was pretty good and young mustached Tom Selleck was far more attractive than she'd anticipated. They got to a gunfight scene and Matthew Quigley, who, much like Eliot, didn't like guns, killed three men where they stood with out even giving them a chance to aim and then, in reference to guns, stated: "I said I never had much use for one. Never said I didn't know how to use it."

Her jaw dropped and she smacked Shelley's arm. "Eliot said that!"

He gave her a confused look and then pointed to the screen. "No, I'm pretty sure Quigley said that. You know Eliot's not here right?"

She gave him a bored look and smacked him again. "No, dimwit, yesterday Eliot said something eerily similar."

"He's seen this movie thousands of times," Shelley said with a chuckle. "I'm not really surprised."

They finished the movie and then Shelley decided he should go. As he left he reminded her to call him anything suspicious happened. She nodded and, for the millionth time in the last two days, promised to alert someone if there was any trouble.

"Don't forget the deadbolt," Shelley called through the closed apartment door.

"Oh my God, go home!" She yelled with a laugh.

"I'll miss you too!" He yelled in response as she heard his footsteps retreating down the hall.

How was Eliot friends with such a goofball? She sat back down on the couch and put in another Tom Selleck western. Who knew he made so many? For some reason, he reminded her of Eliot. They looked nothing a like but the demeanors were similar. She hated to admit it, but she was really starting to like westerns.

* * *

She woke up on the couch the next morning. She'd stayed up too late watching movies and had fallen asleep. According to the clock on Eliot's wall it was 11 AM. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and realized her phone was ringing. She picked it up, expecting it to be Shelley, but the number was different.

"Hello?" she answered with a yawn.

"Did you just wake up?"

"Do none of Eliot's friends say hello?" she asked the female voice on the other end of the line.

"Alright, well, hi," the voice answered in amusement.

"Hi."

"Claire, right?"

"Yes."

"I'm Tara, baby-sitter #2."

"Do you have to refer to yourself as a baby-sitter?" she asked as she scrunched her nose up in disgust.

"Yes."

"Okay then," she said in a slightly taken aback tone. Well, at least she was honest.

"Shelley warned me you were bored."

"No, why would he say that? I can absolutely fill an indeterminate amount of time with western films, umpteen cable channels, and staring out the window wistfully. How about you?" she asked bitingly.

"He warned me about the sarcasm too."

"Yippee for you."

"So, how's your clothes situation," Tara asked in a knowing tone. "I'm willing to bet all you had was your go bag which was probably more I.D.s and loose cash than clothes."

Her eyes widened. She was impressed. "How did you—"

"Grifter," Tara said as if it were obvious.

"Ah," she replied. Well, that cleared up a lot.

"And it's highly unlikely Eliot thought about your wardrobe before he left."

"That's a good bet," she said with a grin and she entertained the thought of Eliot going shopping for her. The amount of grumpy or exasperated expressions she imagined were numerous and hilarious.

"The odds are strongly in my favor, yes."

"I have one outfit left and then it's either laundry or steal Eliot's sweats. Maybe both."

"Right, we should go shopping," Tara told her. "See you in an hour."

And then the line went dead.

"Gee, people come and go so quickly here," she said to Eliot's empty apartment. Of course, there was no one around to understand her Wizard of Oz reference. She sighed and started to get ready for the day. Eliot's friends were…interesting.

Exactly an hour later, a tall blonde showed up at the apartment door. Claire opened the door and stepped aside to let her in. Tara gave her a once over and smirked at her outfit, a black off the shoulder t-shirt and extra tight skinny jeans with wedge laced ankle boots.

"Good choice in go bag outfits. Shows enough of skin and your curves to be distracting but covers enough to allow you to blend in and disappear. The wedge heels are fashion forward and functional and still allow you to move pretty quickly. Smart," Tara said appreciatively.

"Thank you," Claire said with a grin and a nod.

"Alright, where's Eliot's stash?" Tara asked.

"Stash?" Claire asked with a furrowed brow.

"Expense money. I know he left you some," she said as she glanced around the apartment for a hiding spot.

Claire gave her a wary look and casually made her way to the kitchen, away from the floorboard where Eliot kept his loose cash, under the guise of turning off the kitchen light. She then turned and said, "Oh no, we're not using Eliot's money."

"We're not?" Tara asked with a quirk brow.

"Hell no, I've had a sugar daddy for long enough, don't you think?" Claire asked with a wry smirk.

"Then what are we spending?"

"Do you honestly think I would take a job informing on the most dangerous man in the world for free?" Claire asked her in a flat tone. "I mean, am I grifter or am I a grifter?"

Tara chuckled. "You conned a paycheck out of Italian intelligence?"

She smirked but said nothing. "They set up an American bank account for me under an alias while I was with Moreau. I think it's high time I spent some of it."

"You'll need a new grifter wardrobe, of course," Tara said with a nod. "It's not like you'll be staying in Boston."

Claire furrowed her brow at Tara. "How did you—"

"I did my research. If I had been trapped with Moreau for seven years there is no way I would stay in one place for very long. I'd need to stretch out and push my limits," Tara told her. "Especially since you started with him so young. You never really had a chance to see what you can do."

"You're good," Claire said with raised eyebrows.

"I know," Tara said proudly.

"Most people don't get that," Claire told her in a relieved tone. It was nice to have another grifter around. She'd been the only one she knew for far too long, and Sophie made her too uncomfortable to really enjoy it.

"Most people don't do what we do."

Tara took her to Boston's best boutiques and designer stores. Claire had a hard time at first because it had been so long since she'd shopped for herself. Moreau always had her wardrobe brought to her. Personal preference wasn't a big concern to him. She wasn't sure what her style was anymore. She'd been close to tears more than once. There was too much to look at, too much to think about. Just too damn much.

"There's too many choices," she told Tara with a tearful sigh as she collapsed in a near by chair and ran her hands through her hair. Shopping never used to make her shake with frustration. She used to enjoy it, years ago.

"Okay," Tara said patiently as she sat down next to her. "Let's try this, we'll start with something versatile and basic: the little black dress."

Claire nodded silently and let Tara pick out several things for her first. She tried on so many dresses. None felt quite right. Some were too revealing and Claire had been taught that it was always best to withhold during a con. Some were too dowdy and withheld too much. She needed something classy and sexy. Something glitzy yet understated. It was a difficult balance.

Finally, she found one. It had a mesh top and sleeves with an illusion sweetheart neckline on the bodice. The bodice and the skirt were covered in sequins. The dress stopped about five inches above her knee and if she found the right pair of stilettos even her short legs would look killer. It was perfect. Tara agreed it would be the perfect secret weapon on a con and was classic enough to fit several different characters. She took a long moment to admire herself in the dress. There were the tears again. At some point she'd have to stop doing this. She furiously wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and Tara gave her an understanding smile.

"You okay, kid?"

She smiled and sniffled as she turned in the mirror and observed her expression from all angles. "Yeah, yeah I'm great. I just-" She looked upward and took a deep breath to clear the tears from her eyes. "This is the first time I've looked anything like that girl I left behind 7 years ago."

"Did you miss her?" Tara asked with a small smile.

"I didn't think so. But now I know I did."

"Maybe you'll see a little more of her from now on," Tara told her with a grin.

Once that first item was out of the way everything else suddenly clicked. She discovered several things about her personal style after that. She liked dark colors, she found, and very fitted items that showed off her curves. (She had serious hips and an undeniable ass. Yes, she admired her own curves. It had taken her a long time to embrace them, but she made them work.) Sashaying her hips strategically had distracted many a mark.

The next thing they focused on was a corporate wardrobe. She bought pantsuits, skirt suits, fitted blouses and blazers. Then Tara talked her into buying two evening gowns and several cocktail dresses before they, finally, got to casual clothing. She discovered she loved dark wash skinny jeans and studs and chains, anything with a bit of an edge to it. She liked simple, clean, classic lines. And boots. She loved boots. She bought sweats and work out clothes and pajamas. Where she would keep all of these clothes, she didn't know. She'd need to find a storage unit or an apartment. Somewhere to use as a base and a place to store wardrobe. She was already flipping through possible locations in her head.

"Where the hell am I going to keep this stuff?" Claire asked Tara with a huff.

"Keep the essentials at Eliot's for now," Tara told her without a moment's hesitation. "We can put the rest in my storage unit until you get your own."

"Thanks," Claire told her with a pleasantly surprised tone.

"If Eliot trusts you, I trust you," Tara told her dismissively.

The "because Eliot doesn't trust anyone" half of that sentence was implied but unsaid. They both knew how rare Eliot's trust was.

"I could say the same thing about you," Claire said with a nod. "Thanks for this, by the way, and for not judging all the times I freaked out today. It's been so long since I—"

"Since you were able to make your own decisions," Tara finished for her. "It's overwhelming when you've got that freedom again. Trust me, I know. You're doing pretty well with it, actually. Better than I did."

Claire gave Tara a curious glance but didn't dare ask. If she didn't want to share her experience she doubted Tara did.

But Tara continued, "It was different circumstances and it's a story for another time, but just know, I've been exactly where you are and I get it. The only difference between the two of us, really, is that I was prepared for it with Army training. So I'd say, given your civilian status you're handling this remarkably well."

"I didn't have Army training, no, but I did have vicious rhetoric," Claire told her with a smirk to break Tara's growing tension.

"I'm sure they were terrified," Tara told her with a sarcastic grin.

"Nah, more like pissed, but—hey—I was good at it," Claire said with a lopsided smile.

Tara chuckled. "I'll bet you were."

"I had this job once," Claire said as she sat down in a shoe store and reached for a pair of boots. "Moreau wanted me to get this guy to sell his shares to him so he could work this hostile takeover. Easy peasy, play the innocent ignored mercenary's girlfriend with the heart of gold—"

"The Born Yesterday act," Tara said knowingly as she sat down next to her.

"Yes, exactly, and let this guy think he could save me, if only he didn't technically work for Moreau. I had the job nearly completed when Chapman made some smug remark about a grifter being a choice investment like I was property. Which I should have been used to I suppose, but hearing Chapman say it instead of Moreau just really pissed me off. So I fucked it up," she said with a smirk and a shrug. "I pushed a little too hard, went a little too far with the character. Made it too complicated—"

"He figured it out and backed out," Tara finished.

"Yes and when Moreau confronted me about it, I told him that if I was going to be an investment then I deserved a cut. And I wouldn't do a damned thing for him until he gave me one-which was stupid and did not go over well—" she said as she absently rubbed her left wrist. "But later when he was trying to make it up to me I got to plant the bug in his ear that Chapman talked shit about him to his men and encouraged me to demand a share of the deal."

"With your thickest southern accent and saddest eyes," Tara stated as she pretended not to notice the ill alignment of Claire's wrist or the way she held it protectively.

"Of course," she said with a chuckle. "Chapman ended up on bouncer duty for a whole month. Which he hated. He didn't get to kill anyone for four weeks. It made him so much easier to mess with. It was the most fun I'd had since—" she stopped herself short and distracted herself with the boot as she continued. "Since before Eliot left. So when it comes to pissing off powerful men, I am the master. It gives me a sick sense of glee to watch an arrogant man writhe."

Tara smirked wryly at her and nodded. "There's nothing better," she agreed.

Claire laughed as she pulled on one of the boots. "Grifters are a weird group, aren't we?"

"The weirdest," Tara said with a nod. "My least favorite jobs are the ones where I can't mess with the mark. For instance, I stole a painting from this guy once who was a complete abusive jackass. He blackmailed and intimidated his wife into staying with him. Not to mention, he holds a pre-nup over her head to say that he could frame her for violating it at the drop of a hat. I desperately wanted to screw with this guy, but the job was too big of a payday to risk it. And I may have owed some not so nice guys a big chunk of change so I couldn't do it. I had to let this piece of shit continue to victimize this woman. It's been eating at me for three years now."

Claire's eyes flashed angrily and she stepped into the other boot a little more forcefully than necessary. Tara tensed at the sight of it. She knew she'd said something important.

"Oh, hell no," Claire said with a glare. "Have you kept tabs on him?"

Tara quirked a brow at her. She knew that look now. Nate got that look sometimes. Sophie too. It was vengeance and fire and the impending con hung in the air between them. "Claire, are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"

"Do you think I'm plotting this dick's demise? Because if so then yes," She said as she stood up and walked slowly to a mirror to look at the boots.

Tara sighed tiredly. "You really wanna do this?"

"I gotta find a con somewhere, right? Why not help someone while I do it?" She asked. "Eliot does it."

"Eliot has a whole team behind him," Tara reminded her. "He has help."

Claire smirked up at Tara from the mirror before she said decisively, "Then help me. You know the mark already, after all. You could help me plan."

"You're going to do this even if I don't, aren't you?"

"Of course," Claire said with a chuckle. "Once I get an idea, I don't let it go. You'll learn."

"Fine," Tara said in a resigned tone. "I'll help you. But just this once. Clear?"

"Clear," Claire said with a nod before she gave Tara a gleeful smile. "This is gonna be fun."


	9. Chapter Eight: A Fresh Start

Ruthless Game

by angellwings

* * *

Chapter Eight: A Fresh Start

* * *

"This is a terrible idea," Shelley said the next day when he came over to find Tara and Claire planning a long con. "I mean truly horrible."

Claire rolled her eyes at him. "It's a simple long con. We're thinking of using a turnabout. It's the simplest thing to pull off with our desired effect."

Tara nodded. "It should be easy. We've already got her way in."

"Wait," Shelley said with a sigh as he rubbed a hand across his brow. He looked at Claire expectantly. "You're planning on going in alone?"

"He knows Tara," she said with a shrug. "She can't go in with me. Besides, I've done solo cons before. I can do them again. Piece of cake."

Shelley gave Tara a concerned glance before he turned back to Claire. "Hubris or moxy?" he asked.

Claire gave him a confused look. "What?"

"Your attitude, is it hubris or moxy?" Shelley repeated.

Claire grinned at him. "Moxy. All moxy."

"Good," he said seriously. "Hubris will get you killed." He shook his head and stood up and paced in front of them. "Eliot's gonna kill me if something happens to you and he finds out I knew about this."

"Relax," Tara said dismissively. "That won't happen for at least two and a half weeks."

"That, surprisingly, does _not_ make me feel any better," Shelley told her.

"If you're so worried about it, you should come with me," Claire said as she gave him a measuring glance. "You can be my muscle. I might need it, honestly." He gave her a doubtful look but she continued. "This way you can make sure I come back in one piece so Eliot doesn't murder you."

Shelley chewed on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully and then nodded. "That is a very distinct advantage."

"Plus," Tara said with a smirk. "A second might actually help with this. Isla could use a bodyguard."

"Isla?" Shelley asked with a furrowed brow. "Who the hell is Isla?"

"My character," Claire told him before she addressed Tara's thought. "That would certainly add an interesting layer. I like it."

"It sounds like I'm in this whether I like it or not," Shelley said with a huff. "This is a terrible idea. _Terrible_."

Claire chuckled dryly. "Welcome to the life of a grifter, my friend."

The next four days were spent planning out the con and gathering information on the Mark. They needed to know his goals and dreams and everything he had ever wanted. They needed to know what they could hurt him with and how they could safely remove his wife from the situation. They needed to figure out how to get rid of the pre-nup and the blackmail. This woman deserved to walk away with half, if not all, of this man's money. It was up to the three of them to make sure it turned out that way.

Planning a con with Shelley and Tara was the freest Claire had felt in a very long time. It was cathartic for her, honestly. She could give this woman something that no one else could and she could take away her fear. If she did it right. She was aware that this didn't make all of her problems go away and it didn't make her any less of a criminal but damn did it feel good. She felt like her own person and she felt more in touch with who she had been before Moreau than she had been before. That girl was still somewhere inside of her and she needed to find her again.

But then it hit her that it was day eight since Eliot had gone to San Lorenzo. It had been longer than a week. He should have contacted her by now. The job should be finished and if it wasn't then they were all screwed and Eliot was…

No, she wouldn't go there yet. Not enough time had passed for her to assume the worst. Neither Shelley nor Tara had called her yet. She told them to take the day for themselves and that she would call them if she needed them for anything. No one would be interrupting her today. She glanced at Eliot's television and then at the remote. Surely, it wouldn't hurt to try and see a little bit of news on San Lorenzo. Or any news at all really. She'd been keeping herself cut off from it as much as she could because Shelley was right. The more she reminded herself of where Eliot was, the longer it would seem he was gone.

But it was day eight and the nagging worry she'd been suppressing had officially bubbled its way to the surface. She needed to know _something_. So, she turned on the TV and flipped through channels until she reached a news channel.

_"In an astonishing turn of events, President Ribera of San Lorenzo has resigned his office. This exciting election has ended with the hopeful end of corruption in San Lorenzo as Damien Moreau has been arrested for the assassination of the President-Elect's fiancé, Rebecca Ibanez. Today, San Lorenzo mourns the loss of an inspiring citizen but celebrates their return to true and fair democracy—"_

Claire immediately dropped the remote and stared at the television in shock. What the hell had they been up to in San Lorenzo? How had they managed that? There was no way Ribera actually lost that election! Moreau had that election locked up for him. How in the hell did they—

Her burner phone rang loudly and she jumped up from the couch to search for it. Where did she leave it? What if that was Eliot? She ran from room to room until she finally found it in her nightstand drawer.

"Hello?" She answered eagerly. The number that called her wasn't Tara's or Shelley's.

"Arm Candy, what's up?" Hardison asked loudly. "Did you see what we did? Hell yeah, baby! We stole a damn election!"

She grimaced and held the phone away from her ear as he yelled. "Yeah, I saw," she said tersely. Why was Hardison the one calling her? Then she heard Eliot growling in the background and the sound of soft shuffling filled her ears.

"Hello?" a voice asked. "Who is this?"

Claire's brow furrowed. "It's Claire. Who's this?"

"Oh! Hey, sis! I didn't call you. Why are you calling me? Wait, whose phone is this?"

_"Parker, give me the damn phone!"_

"Oh! Eliot! Your girlfriend called me!"

"No, actually I'm not—I didn't—_someone called me!_" She shouted after stuttering through her sentence. There was more shuffling before a maniacal giggle could be heard fading away from the phone.

"Claire?" Eliot's gruff voice asked.

"Oh thank god," Claire said with a sigh of relief. Not just at him finally getting the phone but at the sound of his voice. He was still alive. The tension in her shoulders released and her chest seemed to loosen up. She didn't even realize she'd been that tense to begin with.

"Job's done," Eliot told her simply. He paused and she could sense him relaxing slightly through the phone. "Moreau's gone. He's in prison and won't be getting out any time soon."

She tried to keep herself from doubting him but it wasn't working. "You really think a cell is going to hold him?"

"This one will," he promised. "The Italian's going to make sure of it."

"So, he's done?" Claire asked in disbelief. "Out of my life forever?"

"There's one less person in the world trying to kill you," Eliot said in a wry tone.

She chuckled at him. "Exactly how many people do you think are out there trying to kill me?"

"Well, I wouldn't know, darlin' but from what I remember you never had any trouble making enemies," he said with an audible smirk. "We leave in the mornin'." He stated before taking a deep breath. "You gonna be waiting on me when I get home?"

She smiled brightly and felt tears coming to her eyes. Happy tears. She hadn't had those in a while. She touched a hand to her wet cheeks and then let out a soggy laugh. He was gone. Moreau was gone.

She was _free_.

"Claire, sweetheart? You still with me?" He asked worriedly.

"I'm still with you," she answered with a contented sigh. "And I'll be with you for the next two weeks. Just as promised."

It was funny how making your own choice to stay somewhere made it seem completely new.

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Can't wait," she said honestly as she cradled the phone closer. "You know, I actually miss you, Spencer."

He chuckled. "Imagine my surprise. Miss you too, darlin'."

* * *

She wasn't remembering it wrong. He'd said tomorrow night. Well, here it was 'tomorrow night' and he still wasn't home. It was 11 PM. Where was he? If his flight had been delayed he would have called her, right? What if something terrible had happened? What if Moreau wasn't as locked away as they thought?

No, no. She was being paranoid. She sighed and blew out the candles she'd lit around the apartment and then ducked into the bathroom and pulled on the terry cloth robe she'd bought the other day. It was a bit chilly in just her silk blue teddy. She retreated to Eliot's bedroom and lay down on his bed. She hadn't slept there since that first attempt right after he left for San Lorenzo. She hadn't wanted to be reminded of him, but now that's exactly what she wanted. She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes. She never expected to fall asleep, but she should have known she would have. It was just her luck.

She woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon and pancakes and the glorious smell of breakfast. She was still wrapped in the robe, however, she was tucked under the covers and the other side of the bed had definitely been disturbed. She stepped out of bed and grabbed a pair of Eliot's socks out of his dresser. She quickly slipped them on her feet before padding out into the kitchen. She couldn't stop the huge smile from spreading across her face at the sight that greeted her.

Eliot making breakfast. Eliot in one piece.

_Eliot_.

"Glad you managed to stay whole," Claire said as she leaned against the breakfast bar and beamed at him.

He looked up and grinned at her, slowly and sinfully. "We had a deal, didn't we?"

"We did."

"And I held up my end," he told her as he set a plate in front of her.

"You did," she agreed as she glanced down at the plate and then back up at him. He'd have to forgive her if she let it get cold. "And now it's my turn to hold up mine." She shrugged off the robe and let it fall to the floor before she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a long intrusive kiss. He didn't hesitate to react. One callused hand cupped her face while he placed the other on the small of her back pressed her closer to him. Though she wasn't sure that was entirely possible. She'd already gotten herself as close to him as she could get.

As they kissed she felt his hand move from the small of her back and he slipped a finger under the silk strap of her teddy that was tied at the top of her shoulder. He pulled back from her with a smirk. "This for me?" He asked.

She blushed and grinned. "Maybe."

"You know, I've never been the type to care about this kind of thing. I'd be just as happy if you were in one of my shirts."

She chuckled and kissed him slowly before she pulled away and slipped one of her hands in his hair. "I remember, but this…is the shade of blue you said you liked to see me in."

"You mean the shade of blue I like to take _off_ of you?" He asked her with a dangerous half smile.

"You like it that much, huh?" Claire asked with a slow smile as his fingers tugged at the bow over her right shoulder. The right side of her teddy went slack and then his other hand quickly found the second bow. He untied the bow and the blue silk teddy pooled around her feet. He stepped back and looked her up and down. Her scrapes had mostly healed and her black eye was all but gone, she knew she looked ten times better than she had before. But, for some reason, it felt like the look he gave her had nothing to do with how she looked at all, but more to do with the fact that she was there. More to do with the idea of her actually standing in front of him after all these years. He gave her the feeling he was trying to drink in every inch of her. This moment, standing naked in his kitchen, was probably the single most thrilling and simultaneously terrifying moment of her life.

And then he kissed her. Fiercely and completely. Now she knew exactly what he was doing. He was making up for lost time. Or maybe it was more like stolen time because neither of them had really had a choice. Either way, she thought as she kissed him back, she was all for it.

She was still planning on leaving in two weeks. That hadn't changed. But this right now, with him, felt like a new beginning.

A fresh start.


	10. Part Two, Chapter One: Inevitable

_**A/N: **_Not that many people appear to be reading this, but let me warn you now I call this part two because I switched character perspectives. This starts with Eliot's perspective on his relationship with Claire. On Ao3 I posted this as it's own story but on FFN I figured I'd just leave it all as one. Anyway, hope you guys like this as much as the first 9 installments!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

_**PART TWO: Mosaic Broken Hearts**_

_**by angellwings**_

* * *

Chapter One: Inevitable

* * *

He was back and she was still here. For a little while anyway. He smiled warmly at her as he watched her sleep. In all his years and all his experiences, he'd never met anyone like her before or since. From the beginning she'd been both frustrating and fascinating for him.

Both times Claire came storming into his life he'd been completely blindsided. Not once did he ever see her coming. Definitely not the first time, when he'd overheard her so eloquently telling Chapman to "Fuck off" and then watched her _dare_ him to lay a hand on her. She was all fire and impulse with an inevitable explosion following in her wake. Inevitable. That was a good word for her. He should have known it was inevitable she'd find her way back to him too. But he didn't. His heart had stopped when Moreau called out her name. He'd told himself she'd gotten away from Moreau and maybe he really believed that or maybe it was a lie he'd convinced himself of so he didn't have to think about her still there. She was still beautiful, but her fire had dimmed a little and her gaze was more careful and guarded than he'd ever seen it. Had _Moreau_ done that to her? Had the monster tried to smother the flame completely? If he'd had a few more years the bastard may have succeeded.

But he didn't and she was out now. Safe. For the time being anyway.

She had plans. Eliot knew she did. She wanted freedom and enough room to stretch her legs. He understood that. She'd been caged for far too long, but selfishly he wanted to keep her with him as long as he could. He'd bartered for two weeks and, thankfully, he'd gotten it. She didn't realize this right now, but the first week with Moreau finally gone would be her hardest. It would hit her sooner or later and then she'd crash. He knew she would. It had happened to him.

He was determined to be there when she hit that wall.

Right now, she was asleep, naked and curled into his side. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but he'd heard her whimper once or twice already and her muscles were tense. That alone told him something was wrong. She whispered something in her sleep and buried her face in his chest before she whimpered again. He ran a hand through her red waves and moved the hair off her neck. She was sweating and it was starting to stick. As he moved her hair he felt something along the hairline at the base of her neck. Several somethings, actually, and he knew exactly what they were. Little round burn scars in easily hidden places, usually indicated a cigarette butt had been there once upon a time. These were too old to be Moreau's work though. They'd healed too much for that.

He sighed and placed a kiss on her forehead. No wonder she adapted to Moreau's abuse so easily. She'd been through it before. He heard a sob escape her lips and held her tighter. "I've got you, darlin'. Relax," he whispered against her forehead. Hoping somehow she'd hear him through whatever nightmare she was having. It appeared to work for a moment. The tension in her muscles eased a bit and she snuggled further into him, but a second later she awoke with a startled gasping sob and moved herself as far away from him as possible. He watched her for a moment as she curled into herself on the opposite side of the bed and just listened.

Desperate choking sobs and it sounded like she was having trouble breathing. Was she hyperventilating? Had she hit that wall he'd been dreading since they'd gotten her away from Moreau?

He reached across the bed and pulled her to him. She was still turned away and curled into herself, though. Her hands covered her face and he could feel her shaking. He draped an arm over her middle and pulled her bare back against his chest. "Claire," he said softly. He'd started to say something else but apparently that was enough because she immediately turned, wrapped her arms around him tightly and buried her face in his chest as she continued to choke out sobs.

"Talk to me, sweetheart," he said with a gulp. "What's going on? Did you have a nightmare?"

She nodded against his chest.

"Tell me about it?" He asked gently. "Trust me, if anyone understands nightmares it's me."

She did nothing but sob for a few more long moments and he was afraid she was too lost in her fear to hear him. But finally she managed to speak. "There were p-people, s-s-so many people. I couldn't—I couldn't—" she stopped and buried her face into his chest again with her eyes shut tight. She removed her arms from around him and ground the heels of her hands into her eyes. She stuttered a few more times before she could continue but he could barely hear her through her hands. "People piled on top of people. All dead. And I—Oh god, I helped him. I helped him. He moved all of those weapons into the hands of—people died and I _helped_ him."

And there it was. The Wall.

The sobbing started again and soon her words became nonsense. She was trying to talk but through the shaking and the sobbing he couldn't understand what she was saying. He did the only thing he knew to do. He held her, stroked her hair, kissed her forehead, let her cry. Nothing else would help at this point. She wasn't taking in much air, he could feel her struggling for a breath.

"Okay," he said soothingly. "You gotta breathe, darlin'. You're gonna make yourself sick."

"Monsters don't—" shuddering breath. "D-deserve to—" heartwrenching sob. "Breathe."

He tried not to wince as the full force of her words hit his ears, but he couldn't help it. He knew _exactly_ what she was feeling. He felt it himself nearly every day. He kissed her forehead again and then tucked his hand under her chin to force her to look at him. "Sit up. Stay here. And, please, _breathe_. I'm going to get you a glass of water. Okay?"

She nodded and reluctantly released him. He waited until she was sitting up with her back against the headboard before he left for the kitchen. He came back a short moment later with a bottled water and placed it in her hands.

"Drink it slowly," he told her. "And then we'll talk about it."

She did as he asked and after a couple of sips she surprised him by reaching out and lacing her fingers through his. She clutched at his hand like a lifeline. He'd never seen her like this before but then she'd been through some pretty tough shit in the last five years they were apart. And, he thought, probably in the 19 years leading up to their meeting as well. Though, she'd never disclosed any of that to him just as he'd never disclosed any of his past to her. It was a silent agreement they'd fallen into. Don't ask, don't tell.

"Hey," he said softly as he squeezed her hand to get her attention. She turned an empty gaze on him and he stroked her hand with his thumb in an attempt at a comforting gesture. He met her eyes and gave her a meaningful look. "You did what you had to…to survive."

She let out a short sob that almost sounded like a chuckle and spoke in a hollow tone. "It wasn't worth it. I'm not—I'm not worth it."

"You don't get to decide that," Eliot told her quickly. He knew where this was heading and it was a dangerous place. One he needed to make sure she stayed away from.

"Then who does?" She asked. "Because whoever chooses, chose wrong. I should have let myself die. I mean I'd resigned myself to it anyway. I knew he would end up killing me. _I knew it_. Why am I not dead, Eliot? I should be. Everything I did for them. Everything I helped them accomplish."

His brow furrowed. Them? She was talking about more than one person now. What exactly did she do before Moreau that led her to where she was now? She clearly wasn't proud of it. "I don't know who chooses, but you're still here for a reason, Claire. You just have to find it."

"I'm not you. There's no happy little found family waiting for me out there. It's just me. It's always just me," Claire told him as tears streaked down her cheeks. She wasn't sobbing anymore, he decided to take that as a good sign.

He squeezed her hand again. "It's not just you. Not anymore. You may not want me around all the time and I get that, but I'm here. All you gotta do is call and I'm there. Where ever you are, if you need me, I'll find you."

She closed her eyes for a moment and her tears fell freely before she looked at him with confused questioning eyes. "Why?"

"Because if anyone knows what this is, this feeling you have of guilt and loss and worthlessness, it's me. I'm the person who understands that best. You got bodies and screaming faces in your dreams, I got 'em in mine too. Only I can promise you mine are a lot louder and a lot bloodier. You got things to atone for, so do I. I dealt with this same thing, years ago, but unlike you I didn't have anyone to tell," he said honestly. "Why do you think I only sleep an hour and a half a night? You think I want to do that? No, sweetheart, I don't get a choice. That's the hand I played. I know I'm going to hell. I have no doubts. I just figure I should do a little good with whatever time I got left."

She gasped softly and then set the water bottle down on the bedside table. He started to ask her if everything was okay, but she curled herself into him and pressed a kiss on his neck. She sniffled before she spoke again. "I used to tell myself that same thing every morning. That _exact_ thing."

"See?" Eliot said with a bitter half smile. "Not just you." He kissed her temple and wrapped an arm around her.

"How do you deal with it? With…everything?" She asked in a hushed tone. Almost as if she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"One day at a time," he answered.

She shuddered and he pulled the covers around them. Though, he wasn't sure she was actually cold. "Does it ever get easier?" She asked.

"Eventually," he told her. "It might take a while." He paused thoughtfully before he continued. "It's better when you've got other people around." He knew she wanted to leave and he understood why, but he couldn't resist trying to persuade her to stay.

She let out a soggy chuckle at him. "Good try, Spencer, but no dice."

Of course, she saw right through that. He should know better than to try and fool a grifter, he supposed. But the chuckle was a good sign. It was a welcome sound after listening to her sobbing and gasping for air. "At least I made you laugh," he said with a grin as he rubbed her arm comfortingly.

She chuckled again and rested a hand on his chest, over his heart. "At least." She turned further toward him until she could comfortably rest her chin on his chest. "Thank you," she said as her red eyes met his. He didn't think he'd ever seen her so vulnerable. She was raw and bare and had just revealed her darkest thoughts to him. It spoke volumes about how she felt about him. He knew that, even if she didn't.

He reached up and ran a hand through her long red waves. He didn't miss the slight wince when he reached her hairline. He wasn't sure now was the right time to tell her he'd seen the burns. But he must have given himself away because she sighed and smiled sadly at him.

"You found them, didn't you? The burns?" She asked.

"Wasn't looking for 'em or anything, I was just moving your hair out of the way," He said calmly as his thumb brushed against one of the burns. "They're too old to come from Moreau," he told her.

"You're too good at spotting old wounds. I _don't_ want to know how you earned that skill, okay?" She told him with a slightly teasing glare. Her tone sounded light but he felt her tense next to him.

"When you have as many injuries as I do you learn to spot the signs," He told her. She still didn't relax so he continued. "You don't have to tell me what happened. I don't expect you to."

She breathed a sigh of relief and gave him a grateful look. "I don't doubt I'll tell you eventually, Eliot, but just…not tonight. I'm a little too emotionally exhausted to go down _that road_ right now."

He didn't blame her for that. He wasn't exactly eager to divulge his past to her, no matter how much he trusted her. And he did trust her. More than he thought possible. He was very aware just how dangerous that was. It would probably lead to trouble, for both of them.

He felt her shift next to him and looked down to find her cuddling into him and finally closing her eyes again. Her head rested against his chest and her breathing deepened. He rubbed a hand up and down her back soothingly. She placed a featherlight kiss to his chest before she slowly relaxed against him and drifted off to sleep again. He used the hand that wasn't on her back to move the curtain of red hair off her face and watched her for a moment.

Okay, not probably. It would definitely lead to trouble. But, he thought, any trouble that followed them would be worth it. Completely worth it.

* * *

In the morning Eliot was careful not to wake Claire. He decided to let her sleep as long as her body would let her. He didn't know what she would be up for when she woke but he knew she needed to get out of this apartment. They hadn't talked much but based on her expanded wardrobe he had a feeling Tara took her out at some point, but a shopping trip wasn't really freedom in his opinion.

There was no one chasing her now. There was no one Claire needed to hide from, at least not in the states as far as he knew. She'd once mentioned a couple of warrants in Italy but she didn't seem too worried about it and so neither was he. She was free to explore Boston and he thought, maybe, he could show her around. After everything Moreau put her through she deserved it.

He stepped out into his living room and sighed. He forgot that Claire was, to put it bluntly, a slob. Her clothes and shoes were everywhere. At least she kept his kitchen clean. That was probably more out of respect for him than her own personal need, he thought with an amused grin. She knew how protective he was over a good kitchen. He started to straighten up by picking up some of the things she'd left lying around and when he picked up the clutch she'd left on his coffee table a passport fell out. He wasn't trying to eavesdrop and Claire never left things out in the open that she didn't want found so he didn't see the harm in flipping through it.

It was a fresh, stamped once, New Zealand passport. Too new to be one she would have kept in her go bag and the ID had her picture but the first name Isla. He smirked and shook his head. So, that was who she would run off to be after their two weeks were up. It figured she'd have that plan worked out already. He didn't blame her either. After being trapped for so long the need to run was only natural. He put the passport in the clutch and dropped it off with her clothes in the guest room. He realized, suddenly, that he was about to see a different Claire than he'd ever known before. A truly free Claire. One who could fly away at any moment if she wanted to. He was curious what that Claire would be like. He'd never known that Claire. Though, to be fair, she never really acted as if she were trapped before. She may have felt it and thought it but she disguised it with sarcasm and flirtation and an air of confidence that drew in entire rooms of people.

She was something else, and he only knew a small part of her. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about the rest. About her past before Moreau. But he knew what asking her about that would mean, it would mean he'd have to share his own past in return. That was something he'd rather avoid reliving if at all possible so he left it alone. And, to be honest, he wasn't planning on opening up that door any time soon. She knew about what he'd done while working for Moreau, that was bad enough. He'd rather she not know the rest.

"Do you really only sleep an hour and a half a night?" Claire's voice asked from his bedroom doorway. "I mean it makes sense when I think about it. I've never _ever_ woken up before you. Not once."

He turned to find her leaning against the doorframe in a flannel button down of his and took a long moment to breathe her in. Petite curvy frame with fiery red hair and challenging blue eyes met by an understanding smile. He made a note to himself to remember how she looked at that moment. Her hair wasn't straight like she normally kept it and her make up had been washed away. Just long frizzy waves and fair freckled skin remained. Only the essentials, the way he liked her best.

He nodded to answer her question. "On average, yes. Some nights I'll sleep a little longer, but typically I only need an hour and a half."

"And you can still function like a human?" She asked with a quirked brow. "I'm impressed."

He didn't bring up the previous night as she approached him. He didn't need to. She'd never shied away from talking to him before so he knew she'd bring it up if she wanted to talk. She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled fondly at him.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For last night. I'm glad you were there."

He gave her a half smile and nodded once. "I may not be there when you want me but I'm always there when you need me."

"Ditto," she answered with a grin. "So," she said as she changed the subject and effectively closed the book on her emotional night. "Your two weeks officially starts today. What are you gonna do with it, Spencer?"

"For starters," he said as he brushed a stray hair out of her face. "I'm getting you out of this apartment. If only so you don't make a mess of it again."

She chuckled at him and shook her head. "I'm a slob and you love it. For a hitter you're surprisingly domestic and can't resist cleaning up after me. Admit it, it makes you feel needed."

He smirked and poked her side playfully. She let out a small yelp and squirmed before he answered her. "Domestic ain't a word most folks would use to describe me, you know."

"Most folks don't really know you that well. Do they?" she said in her Eliot voice that she'd _nearly_ perfected years ago.

"Or they don't know me at all," he told her. "I keep it that way. Everybody stays safe when I do."

"So then why me?" She asked him seriously. "All those years ago, why'd you let me in?"

He probably shouldn't have let her in. She might have been better off if he hadn't, but even years later he couldn't bring himself to regret it. She was probably the first thing that made him want to have a _life_ again and to be something more than what he was. He couldn't regret her. "You were different," he said briefly.

When he didn't continue she rolled her eyes at him and chuckled teasingly. "Thanks. That explains everything. No need to continue," she told him with a sarcastic grin.

He shook his head at her. "You know I'm not—I don't know, I'm not too good at this stuff."

She smiled warmly at him and nodded. "So, don't tell me what you felt. Tell me what you thought. What you honestly thought when this all first started."

"You were…alive," he said finally. "Vibrant. You stood out and made the world seem like a place to live, not just a place to bide my time. I hadn't felt that in a very long time. Plus, you were annoying as hell."

She feigned an offended look before she laughed loudly. "You weren't much better, Grumpy."

"Yeah, well, somebody had to keep you from jumping in to those cons head first and trying to coast by on luck. Sometimes I think you don't have a tactical bone in your body," he said with a teasing smirk.

"Having a plan is over rated. Sometimes you just have to rely on your gut," she told him stubbornly. "I still believe that. The Italian hated it. She had plans to back up her back up plans."

"Remind me to never let you ask Nate about his back up plans," Eliot told her. "That's an argument that would never end."

"Back up plans? Plural?" She asked in disbelief. "How many plans does he have on a regular job by job basis?"

"He never says really, but I figure 26. One for every letter of the alphabet," Eliot said with a smirk. "Typically, Hardison dies around plan M."

It was music to his ears when she laughed loud and long at that. He hadn't heard her laugh that hard since long before he'd left Moreau's crew five years ago. She rested her head against his shoulder as she laughed and then grinned back up at him. "So, Hardison dies first, huh?"

Eliot nodded. "Usually."

"Makes sense," she said lightly. "He seems like the panicky type."

This time it was Eliot's turn to laugh. He let out a short laugh at that. "Barely met him twice and you've already got him pegged."

She smirked and shrugged. "I'm a quick study."

"That's good to know," Eliot said with a grin.

"Why's that?" She asked warily.

"Because I think I know what we're going to do today. You buy any work out clothes with all those cocktail dresses?" He asked her teasingly.

"I don't like the sound of this," she said as she gave him a suspicious glance. "You know I don't do well with exercise."

"C'mon, Lanier," Eliot said with a chuckle. "Live a little."

She smiled slowly and sinfully at him. "Oh trust me, Spencer, I got a lot of livin' left to do and I'm just gettin' started."

"Easy, Darlin', your troublemakin' southerner is showing," he said with a slow smile of his own. The longer she talked the more her accent slipped back into her speech. She probably didn't even notice it.

"Let her, I owe her a little fun," Claire said with a wink. "You win. Let me get changed."

She slowly released him and then sauntered away toward his guest room. He knew his eyes were on her the whole time, but he didn't think any man could resist watching Claire Lanier walk away. She had power in that walk and she knew it.


	11. Part Two, Chapter Two: First Date

_**A/N: **_So wow, thanks for all the reviews last chapter you guys! I wasn't expecting them but they were REALLY NICE to see! This story hasn't been getting a lot of them so I really didn't think that would happen. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it! I love to hear from you guys so please keep it up and let me know what you're thinking!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

**PART TWO: Mosaic Broken Hearts**

by angellwings

* * *

_Chapter Two: First Date_

* * *

"You know," Claire said as they walked down the street arm in arm. "I just realized that this is technically our first actual date." She shot him a flirtatious smile and leaned into him slightly. "Like…_normal_ people. Who'd have ever thought, huh? I never get to do anything normal."

"What are you talking about? We've been on a date before," he said with a furrowed brow.

"Eliot, dinner cooked in a hotel bathroom is not a date. No matter how innovative you were with your cooking methods or how long it took you to convince the hotel to let you borrow a hot plate. We've been forced to hide this," she said as she motioned between them. "Even if we didn't hide it well, from the very beginning. This is the first time we've done something together that wasn't related to a job and we haven't had to hide. Therefore, this is our first actual date," she said logically. "That doesn't mean we haven't had our fair share of romantic nights. They just weren't really _dates_."

"You and I have very different definitions of a date," Eliot said with a smirk.

"So, Cowboy, where are we going?" She asked as she smiled coyly at him and changed the subject.

"You'll see," he told her mysteriously.

She gave him a suspicious glance but didn't question him further.

"What else do you have in mind for the next two weeks?" She asked as she held his arm a little tighter.

"I figure you've worked since you were a teenager with the goal of getting back here so we'd spend the next two weeks exploring a little bit," he told her with a grin. "Haven't really had a chance to take a look at what's outside of Boston and according to Hardison there's a lot more to this state than I think there is."

She laughed lightly at him. "Because it's up north you think it doesn't have as much adventure, don't you?"

"We got big open spaces in the South and some amazing _natural_ sights. Can you blame me?" He asked her.

"No," she said with a warm smile. "I come from a state with the beach on one end and mountains on the other and amazing green rolling hills in between. When I think of paradise, I think of that. It was the sweetest greenest place. I've missed it for 15 years. So, I definitely can't blame you."

He nodded and smiled affectionately at her. "Never been to North Carolina. Been to all the states around it, though."

"Well, someday we'll have to go and you can see for yourself," she said softly.

"Alright, but if we do that then I get to take you to Oklahoma," he told her. "Fair trade. Deal?"

She smiled brightly and removed one of her hands from his arm to shake hands with him. "Deal. You're fond of deals aren't you?"

"They're the best way to get you to agree to anything," he told her with a teasing smirk. "It's been that way as long as I've known you."

"That is not true!" She said with a grin as she playfully smacked his arm.

He laughed softly. "Yes it is. Everything adventurous I've convinced you to do has been because of a deal."

She gave him a challenging glare. "Give me one example."

"There was that time you let me teach you how to make an omelet, which you seem to have forgotten completely. To get you to do that I had to sneak you out to go dancing. Then there was cliff diving, I had to promise you a cheesecake to get you to jump. And the zipline ride we did in Costa Rica—"

"Okay, okay, I said one," she said with a laugh. "Your deals tend to involve food a lot. Not that I'm complaining."

He shrugged and smiled warmly at her. "You like it and I like to share it with you. It works out."

"Well, I guess I'll have to practice being adventurous without a deal," she told him with determination.

"Good," He said with a knowing grin as they stopped. "Then let's start today."

She groaned and then chuckled. "This has to do with why I'm wearing work out clothes doesn't it? I walked right into this."

He turned her toward the door he'd stopped in front of and she sighed miserably.

"Rock climbing? You brought me to an indoor climbing place?" She asked as she read the name on the door. "You're kidding, right?"

He said nothing and continued to grin.

"You're not kidding. Indoor rock climbing?"

"You never know, you might like it," he told her with a smirk. "It's _adventurous_."

She laughed and glared playfully at him. "Oh, I hate you so much."

"No, you don't," he told her as he opened the door for her.

She grinned and winked at him as she walked passed him. "No, I don't."

* * *

"This is the least attractive thing I have ever worn," Claire said as she finished putting on the harness.

"Yet you still look damn good," Eliot said with a lopsided grin.

"Ever the charmer, Spencer," Claire said with a chuckle. "Okay, so this guy," she said as she motioned to the man managing the harness and pulley system. "Spots me while I pull myself up on the knobby looking things, right?"

Eliot laughed at her and then nodded. "Yes."

"Right, okay, I can do this," Claire said as she took a deep breath and reached for the first hold.

"Just follow the colored tape for the route," Eliot told her.

"Yeah, how about I just use whichever one of these things is closest," she responded dryly.

Eliot grinned in amusement and nodded. "Whatever you're comfortable with, darlin'."

He watched as she got about halfway up the wall and then couldn't seem to find anywhere for her legs to go.

"This is not a sport for people with short legs and arms," she yelled down at him.

The guy anchoring the harness chuckled and she turned her head to glare at him.

"No body gave you permission to laugh, dude."

This time it was Eliot that laughed at her. "I told you to follow the route."

"Shut up, Spencer," she said with a huff.

She was quiet for a moment as she tried to analyze all of her options. She decided to use her arms to pull herself up one or two holds until she could find a good foothold. It was pretty impressive for someone who'd never been climbing, he had to admit. She made it all the way up and patted the ceiling to signal the guy to let her down. He brought her down slowly and she smiled at Eliot victoriously. He unclipped her harness for her and then tugged a strand of her hair teasingly.

"Pretty good for a beginner."

She rolled her eyes with a dry smile. "Fine, it's your turn. Pick a wall and show me how it's done, you jerk."

It took him a quarter of the time it took her to make his way up the most difficult wall in the gym. It had a cliff face that jutted out at a steep angle and when he was back on the ground she chuckled and shook her head at him.

"Show off," she said teasingly.

Her time increased the longer they were there. Her competitive side was starting to show itself. She was determined to beat her own time each time she tried a wall and the walls she picked grew increasingly more difficult. By the time they were done she was exhausted but in good spirits. He gave her an expectant look and a smirk.

"Okay, I'll admit it," she said finally. "That was fun."

He chuckled at her and helped her take the harness off and then took off his own while she turned in her climbing shoes. They left five minutes later and were walking down the sidewalk arm in arm again.

"As first dates go," she said with a smile. "That was a pretty good one."

"Pretty good?" He asked. "Just pretty good?"

"If you plan on feeding me then the rating will go up," she told him with a smirk. "It's all on you, Shug."

"Fine, we'll go back, shower and change and then go to dinner," Eliot said with a nod and a playful roll of his eyes. "So, how are you enjoying being back in the world so far?" he asked seriously.

She smiled peacefully at him and took a deep breath before she answered. "I'm not sure if the world is really all that different than it was 5 years ago, but it feels different. Bigger than it used to, somehow. Even though I've seen pretty much all of Europe at this point. How is that possible?"

"Because," Eliot said as he reached over and squeezed her hand that was holding his arm. "Now you're free to explore it the way _you_ want to, to see what _you_ want to see. That makes it different."

"You know, I don't think I ever really realized how often you snuck me away from Moreau's watch dogs until you left. You helped me see the things I wanted to see," she told him with a wistful smile. "Did you ever get in trouble for that? I mean, we were watched all the time."

"Chapman tried to blackmail me with it once or twice," he told her honestly. "But he knew how it would turn out if he ever went through with it. Did Moreau ever let on that he knew about it?"

"Not until a couple of weeks before everything went down," she said thoughtfully. "He knew we were close and that I liked you more than I liked him, but he didn't seem to know how _close_ we were until things started to go bad. He was pretty jealous of you, actually. He couldn't seem to let it go. He had a habit of asking me to compare you to him after he took me to dinner or we went to an event." She paused and then continued awkwardly, "Or other things. Honestly, I think his obsession was less about me and more about the fact that he thought he'd humiliated you in some way. I was just the trophy."

No wonder the fire she once possessed had dimmed. Eliot knew Moreau had treated her like property but to feel as though the only value you had in anyone's eyes was merely symbolic would almost be worse. If it was possible he hated Moreau even more for that. Then there was the small issue of him feeling like it was his own damn fault. She'd been a casualty of Moreau trying to defeat him. Just one more way she probably would have been better off if he'd kept his distance all those years ago.

"You're a lot more than a trophy," he told her with a meaningful glance as he brought one of her hands to his lips kissed the back of it. To ease the tension, he smirked teasingly at her and continued with a wink. "For starters, a trophy isn't bossy or sarcastic."

She chuckled and blushed lightly before she smacked his arm playfully. "Nice, Spencer."

"I am serious, though," he said as he stopped them from walking any further. He turned to face her and gently tucked a fly away hair behind her ear. "You know you're more than that, don't you?"

"Sometimes I do," she said honestly as she focused on the sidewalk to avoid meeting his gaze. "But that's part of the reason I want to leave, Eliot. I need to prove it to myself. I don't want to sometimes know it. I want to know it all the time."

He thought he understood why before but when she put it that way he realized he didn't really understand at all. Until now. It was less about seeing the world and more about discovering who she was and what she wanted. It was about believing in herself. Something he knew she struggled with no matter how confident she seemed.

"In the meantime, I guess I'll just have to keep reminding you," he told her as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her to him, and leaned forward to kiss her temple.

She blushed and finally met his eyes as they started walking again. "You know, your new little make shift family has probably been better for you than you realize."

His brow furrowed at her in surprise. "What?"

"5 years ago, we wouldn't have talked this much. You would have been here for me, sure, but I would've had to read all of this from your body language. And then there's your eyes…"

He felt self-conscious now. "What about my eyes?"

"They were always so angry. No matter what else you were feeling there was mostly anger there. I had to really look to see anything else. It was there all the time. But now…" she paused and then continued reluctantly. "Now it's the anger I have to really look for. It's taken a backseat to everything else. And the only thing I can credit that change to is them."

"I don't know about _that_—"

"No, Eliot, don't deny it. Not to me, at least. It's a good change. It looks good on you. Trust me," she said as she placed a brief kiss on his lips and then rubbed his back lightly.

"They drive me crazy most of the time," he told her after a prolonged moment of silence passed between them.

She chuckled and nodded. "That's what family does, if I remember correctly. Of course, it's been a while since I've had one so I may not be the best person to judge."

"You never talk about your family," he said observantly. It was a touchy subject for them both, he knew. Neither of them had ever brought it up.

"Neither do you," she told him with a pointed glance.

"It's complicated," He said with a sigh. He should have seen that coming.

She smiled and patted his arm in sympathy. "I know all about complicated, Shug. I get it."

"Is it a bad thing that we don't talk about it?" He asked her worriedly. Most other people would have by now.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked him with a furrowed brow.

"Not really, no," he said with a shake of his head.

"Good, neither do I," she told him with an understanding smile. "I don't think it's good or bad. I just think neither of us are ready to share quite yet. Let's just let it happen whenever it happens and not worry about what is acceptable for normal people. I think we both know we're not ever going to be normal."

He gave her a half of a smile and nodded in agreement. That was one thing that had always appealed to him about Claire. She understood about secrets. She had plenty of her own and never pressured him to confide in her. Everyone kept secrets for a reason and she didn't feel like she had an automatic right to know them. His or anyone else's. Yet another reason she was different than a lot of other women he'd known.

They finally made it back to his place and she hopped in the shower first. They both knew it would take her the longest to get ready for a dinner out. Twenty minutes later, she walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel with another towel in her hand as she towel dried her long wet hair.

"You're going to straighten it again, aren't you?" He asked as he motioned to her hair.

She quirked a brow at him. "Yes, do you have something to say about that?"

There was a line that he was coming up on. A very thin line between offering an opinion and telling her what to do. It was a dangerous one. One wrong word and the whole day would be ruined. She'd had plenty of people telling her what to do for far too long. He by no means wanted to add to that. He had to watch his next words very carefully.

"Not really, no," he said hesitantly. He met her eyes and smiled softly at her. "It's just an opinion. You can take it or leave it."

The tension in the air eased and her posture relaxed. She still looked wary of what he was about to say, but she appeared to be open to hearing him. "What opinion is that?"

"It suits you when you let it air dry," he told her honestly.

Her nose scrunched up for a moment in disgust before she spoke. "You mean when it's all big and frizzy and wavy?"

He chuckled at her and shook his head. "Is that what you see when you look in the mirror? Big, frizzy, and wavy?"

"That's what it is, Eliot. Not what I see."

He approached her slowly and wrapped his hands around her waist. "Then maybe you're looking at it all wrong. Because I happen to like your wavy hair."

She blushed and smiled at him. "You do?"

"I do," he told her with a nod.

"Well, then maybe I'll save that look just for you," she said with a smile.

"I can live with that," he told her as she dropped the other towel she'd been using on her hair on the back of his couch and wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands slipped into her wet hair and she closed the distance between them to kiss him deeply. He pulled her closer as they continued to kiss and then he was reminded that they were trying to get ready for dinner by the feeling of terry cloth under his fingers. He pulled away and grinned at her. "If we keep doing _this_ we're never going to make it out the door."

She chuckled and nodded. "Okay, okay, I guess I'll go get dressed." She winked at him as she released him and walked away. She stopped at the door to the guest bedroom and turned to speak to him. "But this ain't over, Spencer. Got that?"

"Got it," he said with a smirk as headed to the bathroom for his own shower.


	12. Part Two, Chapter Three: Afraid

PART TWO: Mosaic Broken Hearts

by angellwings

* * *

Chapter Three: Afraid

* * *

That night Eliot rolled over, half asleep, and reached for Claire only to find her side of the bed empty. He furrowed his brow at the other side of his bed that was barely disturbed and glanced down at his watch. An hour, he'd been asleep an hour. Claire never got up before him. He sat up and looked around the room. The bedroom door was cracked open and Claire was nowhere to be found in the room. Now, he was worried. Did she leave? Or had she had a nightmare and gone somewhere while she was emotional? Had she gone out alone? He was half asleep and a thousand ways she could be in danger ran through his mind. They'd taken care of Moreau but it was more than possible he had associates who would love to get their hands on Claire. He shook himself and rubbed a hand across his face to wake up. He got out of bed and pulled on a shirt to wear with his boxers before he walked out into his living room. He was probably being paranoid, however, it was hard to be paranoid when you had as many enemies as he and Claire did.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he turned toward the window in his living room. She was sitting in an arm chair next to the window gazing out over the city. She'd wrapped a blanket around herself to keep warm. She looked…lost. As he approached he could see she had her legs curled underneath her and a mug of coffee in her hands. He cleared his throat to alert her of his presence and he didn't miss her slight jump at the sound. She turned hesitantly to face him, but didn't say anything.

"Hey," he said in a concerned tone. "You okay? Did you have a nightmare again?"

She shook her head and swallowed thickly. "Too afraid of one to sleep," she told him with a sigh as she set the coffee cup on the window sill. "I don't want to see those faces or those bodies. It was horrifying. I—" she stopped her sentence short as her unshed tears crept into her voice and it cracked ever so slightly. "I can't see that again, Eliot. _I can't_."

He squeezed into the large armchair beside of her and then carefully scooted her into his lap. She rested her head against his chest and crossed her arms over her own chest. He rested one hand on her hip and the other across her knees. Eliot placed a kiss on the top of her head before he held her tighter against him.

"Avoiding sleep isn't going to stop you from seeing it, darlin'," Eliot told her honestly. "You're seeing it right now, aren't you?"

She closed her eyes tight and nodded her head against his chest. Her breathing was shallow as she tried desperately not to cry. "It won't go away. It never goes away."

Eliot decided she needed to think about something else for a while. A distraction. Something she enjoyed. Or used to enjoy, he thought sadly.

"You still sing?" He asked.

She sniffled and then nodded. "Sometimes. Not as much as I used to."

"I learned something while we were apart," he told her with a grin as he thought back to a previous job.

"What's that?" she asked.

"I can sing too."

She chuckled and met his eyes with her watery ones. "You knew _that._"

"I didn't. I didn't know I could sing in front of people. Not like you," he said as she poked her waist teasingly.

"I told you that for two damn years, Spencer. What finally made you agree with me?" She asked him with a grin as she squirmed away from his hand slightly.

"A job we did earlier this year," he said vaguely. "Fiddle game and I was the fiddle."

"So, this family of yours made you sing, huh?" She asked with a smirk. "And I thought they were good for you before, well, now I know they are. Had you singing harmonies for me for two years and yet you never actually admitted you could sing. You're unbelievable, Cowboy."

He laughed lightly and ran a light soothing hand across her knee. "If you ever feel like singing again," he told her. "I've got a guitar. You're free to use it, darlin'."

"I might take you up on that sometime," she told him as she unfolded her arms and placed her left hand directly over his heart. She'd done the same thing the night before. It must offer her some sort of comfort. He expected them to drift off into silence after that. Her eye lids were looking heavier. But she surprised him, just as she had with the hand holding the night before, by speaking softly. "The burns are from my step father."

That was a completely unexpected admission. She'd never told him anything about her life before Moreau. He didn't speak. He was too afraid he'd do something to scare her into silence. He didn't dare move either because with just those seven words he wanted to hide her away from everything and everyone. She sounded small. Like she must have been when those burns happened.

"He was an angry drunk and…sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of the night to him pressing a cigarette butt into the back of my neck. Never told me what I supposedly did to deserve it. Not once. Not that it mattered. Anything would have set him off. There wasn't anything I could have done that would have changed it."

He sat there in stunned silence for a long moment. He knew they'd discussed their tendency to not talk about their past earlier today but he didn't mean for her to take that as a request. He hoped she didn't think that he was trying to pressure her into talking to him. "You didn't have to—"

"I know," she told him.

"Then why did you—"

"I felt like saying it, I guess. I've…never told anybody about that before," she said with an emotional gulp. "Seems right you should be the first person I admit it to for some reason."

His hands tightened on her ever so slightly and he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "My dad and I fell out over a hardware store," he admitted with a dry chuckle. "Sounds dumb but at the time it seemed important. I wanted to serve my country and he wanted me to take over the business. I wanted more than that and he didn't understand it. By the time I thought about trying to patch things up I just…I thought it might be too late and then I thought that he might be better off, safer, without me. You know?"

"I know," she said with a nod and an understanding smile. He could tell she hadn't been expecting him to tell her anything in return, but…

Well, the way he saw it fair was fair. And true, it wasn't his darkest secret, but they'd agreed to share what they felt comfortable with.

She reached a hand up to the side of his face and ran a thumb across his cheek before she pulled him to her for a soft and slow kiss. It was a thankful and full of an emotion he couldn't really name. It was the most intimate kiss they'd ever shared. It wasn't one the preceded something else or something desperate that communicated need. And it wasn't something he did to celebrate that he was still alive after a particularly nasty job or that she was still whole after a grift that left her vulnerable. All of those things they had done before, numerous times. But this kiss was new to them. It was bare and open and sensual. When they pulled apart she rested her head against his chest again and placed her left hand on top of the hand he had on her knee. There was a long moment of silence as they both allowed the things they'd just revealed to eachother to settle in. He never felt right telling other people about his past. It felt too protected and private to share with most people. But he trusted Claire. He couldn't say he was ready to tell her everything _but_ he'd just revealed part of his past to her and it didn't feel wrong. There was no nagging feeling that he'd just revealed a weakness. No fear that she would use it against him. Just..._relief_ that someone knew.

"That wasn't as hard as I thought it would be," Claire said after the moment of silence had passed. Her thoughts must have taken a similar path to his own.

He chuckled and nodded in agreement. "Definitely not as painful as I expected."

Her eyelids drooped and slowly drifted closed. After a few minutes he felt her breathing deepen and her muscles relax against him. She'd actually fallen asleep. Now he just had to hope that she managed to sleep peacefully. His own eye lids felt heavy and he could feel sleep coming. He shifted Claire a little closer and held her a little tighter as he finally drifted off himself. His last thoughts before he fell asleep were of what he'd do to Claire's step father if he ever met him. Whoever he was, the man better hope that day never came.

* * *

He woke up nearly two hours later. He was surprised he slept that long, but then it was kind of cozy having Claire in his lap. Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone. He reluctantly lifted her off his lap and left her curled up in the chair by herself. He pulled the blanket over her and then kissed the top of her head before he grabbed his phone and stepped outside into the hallway.

He dialed a familiar number and waited for someone to pick up.

"Eliot?"

"Hardison, can you book a flight for me and Claire?"

"What am I? Your travel agent? Seriously? You can't book that without me?"

"You know all the aliases. Will you just do it?"

"Now you want a favor. You rag on me all the time for what I do and now you want a favor."

"Can you do it or not?" Eliot asked with a huff.

"Of course I can do it, man. Who do you think you're talking to?"

"Then can you do it and _shut up_?" Eliot asked with a growl.

"You know, what happened to radio silence in between jobs? Aren't we supposed to _not_ talk to each other?"

_"Hardison_," he sneered.

"Yeah, fine, whatever. Meet me at the bar in a couple of hours and I'll have your tickets," Hardison said with a sigh. "Man, the things I do for you people. Where are you wanting to whisk Arm Candy away to?"

"Nantucket," he told him.

"Nantucket?" Hardison asked in disgust. "Dude, you could take her any where. The Bahamas, Brazil, Spain, Australia—any number of places that would have better beaches than _Nantucket_."

"She's been to all those places, jackass," he said with a huff. "She's never been to Nantucket. Will you just do it?"

"Big mistake, bruh. But fine. Like I said meet me at the bar in two hours."

Eliot hung up the phone and then slipped back inside the apartment. If Claire wanted to be back in the States then he'd show her some of it. And maybe a trip away would get her mind off of that nightmare. Claire was still sleeping when he got in. She appeared to be sleeping soundly with no sign of a nightmare. He made a pot of coffee and kept an eye on Claire for any signs of her nightmares returning. He leaned against his counter and slowly sipped a cup of coffee. He was worried about her. She was afraid of this nightmare so much that she was willing to avoid sleep altogether. That wasn't healthy. He needed to get her passed this somehow.

Maybe he could get her to really talk about it. She'd told him a little of her childhood last night, but she'd still told him next to nothing about what happened with Moreau. Getting that off of her chest might be just what she needed to help her, and part of him hoped getting out of Boston (and his apartment) might help.

When he finished his coffee he took a quick shower and packed a small duffel for himself. By the time he'd dressed and dropped his bag by the door Claire was stirring and slowly waking up. She stretched her arms over her head and the blanket fell to the floor. She yawned and Eliot felt her eyes land on him from across the room. Her brow furrowed when she saw the bag and he could see worry in her half lidded eyes.

"Going somewhere?" she asked in a groggy voice.

"Yes, and you're coming with me," He answered with a small smile.

She perked up and smiled sleepily. "Where are we going?"

"Well, first, we have to meet Hardison at the bar in an hour."

She frowned at him. "Please tell me we're doing more than that because that is not how I want to start my day."

Eliot smirked at her. "Me either, darlin'. But I needed a favor. He's got our plane tickets."

She stood up and picked the blanket up off of the floor. She threw it over the back of the chair as she spoke. "Plane tickets? We're flying somewhere?"

"Just for a couple of days. I thought you might could use a change of scene," he told her. "So, get ready and then pack for the beach. I've got enough time now that I can still make you breakfast."

She smiled brightly at him and crossed the room. She wrapped her arms around his neck once she reached him. "Breakfast and a beach trip? Wow, what's this about?"

"Just wanted to get you out of this apartment, and let you see a little bit of the country you worked so hard to get back to," he told her as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against his chest. "If that's okay with you."

She kissed him quickly before she answered. "Sounds perfect."

He brought one hand up to the side of her face and gently ran his thumb across her cheek. "Thank you for trusting me last night, by the way."

Her smile turned nervous for a split second before her eyes bored into his. These eyes were wide open and vulnerable. They were more honest than he'd ever seen them and it nearly knocked the wind out of him.

"I always trust you, Eliot," she said with a warm smile. "Whether or not I tell you about my past has nothing to do with you. You know that right?"

"I know," he told her. "But you told me something big last night. That means something."

"And you told me _anything_ about your past. That's pretty big too," she said with a teasing grin. "We're even."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes at her. "Funny."

"I do mean that, though," she said seriously. "Neither of us talk about our pasts so for us to have disclosed anything to each other is big enough. I don't need any thank you as long as we're willing to listen to each other."

"Anytime you wanna talk, darlin'," he promised as he placed a kiss on her temple.

"Good," she said with a soft smile. "Okay, I'm gonna go shower and change clothes while I still have time."

"And pack," he reminded her as she walked away.

"And pack!" She called over her shoulder. "I wasn't expecting to use my new swim suits so soon after I bought them. This'll be fun."

Oh, he had no doubt it would be. If he remembered correctly, Claire wore swimsuits very well. _Very well_.


	13. Part Two, Chapter Four: Getaway

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

**PART TWO: Mosaic Broken Heart**

by angellwings

* * *

_Chapter Four: Getaway_

* * *

"What took you so long, man? I said two hours. It's been two and a half," Hardison said as Eliot and Claire walked through the door.

"What? Did we take you away from your elf friends?" Eliot asked bitingly.

"Orcs. They're orcs," Hardison clarified as he rolled his eyes. "And yes. I've been A-F-K for over half an hour now."

Claire's brow furrowed at him and she gave Eliot a questioning glance. "A-F-K?"

Eliot shrugged and shook his head. "I never know what the hell he's talking about. Don't look at me."

"A-F—Away from keyboard! I need better friends," Hardison said with a shake of his head.

Claire gave the younger man a smirk. "Aw, Hardison. I didn't know we were friends. That's sweet."

"We're not—I don't trust you even the tiniest bit, Arm Candy. We're not friends. You're Eliot's friend, or whatever the hell the two of you are, so I'll put up with you. But that's as far as it goes," Hardison said plainly. There was no malice in his tone. Just plain honesty. She could appreciate that.

"You wouldn't be a criminal if you trusted me," she said with a grin and a shrug. "And don't worry. The feeling's mutual."

"Do you have the tickets or not?" Eliot asked with an expectant look.

Hardison slid an envelope across the table. "Plane tickets, rental car reservation, and hotel confirmation. I'm assuming you didn't think about where you would actually stay on this whirlwind weekend getaway."

He was right. Eliot had forgotten that part. "Thanks, man."

"I still say there are a lot better places you could go for a romantic weekend than Nantucket but—"

"Hardison!" Eliot said with a glare and a sneer.

"What?" He asked cluelessly.

Claire smiled brightly at Eliot and leaned into him before she spoke excitedly. "Nantucket? We're going to Nantucket?"

"It was supposed to be a _surprise_," Eliot said as he continued to glare at Hardison.

"Oh hell no, you're actually excited about that?" Hardison asked Claire in disbelief. "Do you know how many beaches there are in the world? Many much better than—"

"I've never been there before!" She said as she kissed Eliot's cheek quickly and ignored Hardison. "Thank you."

"You know, I'm the one who made the arrangements. Anybody gonna thank me?" Hardison asked in an irritated tone.

"Eliot did or did you miss that part?" Claire told Hardison with a smirk. "But since you would have sent us off to Spain or somewhere, were it your choice, I'm going to thank _him_. Because I've been to Spain and Australia and Brazil and half a dozen tropical islands but I've never been to Nantucket. It's new and exciting. Besides, we're not friends and you don't trust me. I am under no obligation to thank you."

"Let me commend you on your choice of dates. She's a charmer," Hardison told Eliot with a dry expression.

Eliot leaned back in the booth and flashed Hardison half of a grin before his eyes lingered on a Claire appreciatively. "You have no idea."

Hardison rolled his eyes at him and stood from the booth. "And with that my job here is done. Your flight leaves in 90 minutes. Don't miss it and make my magic meaningless."

Claire watched him go with a grin and then chuckled as Hardison slammed the door behind him. "He's a bit pissy, huh?"

Eliot laughed and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, but it just makes him fun to mess with."

She opened the envelope and glanced at the tickets. "He is good, though. I'll give him that. So, Nantucket?" She asked Eliot as she turned an excited smile on him.

"It's close by and I told you we'd go exploring outside of Boston. It made sense," he told her with a nod.

"Well, thank you," she said with a soft smile as she scooted out of the booth. "I'm excited."

He chuckled softly and then followed her out of the booth as he spoke. "I thought you might be."

His idea had been the right one because her mood was significantly brighter than he'd seen it since he'd been back from San Lorenzo. She needed a change of scene, if only for a couple of days. The drive to the airport, the flight, and the drive to the hotel were all uneventful. Four hours after meeting Hardison at the bar they were checking in to a cozy waterside bed and breakfast that looked homey and comfortable. It reminded him of some of the larger farm houses he'd grown up around back home. Much better than some of the hotels they stayed in for different jobs that were typically so modern and cold.

"This is beautiful," Claire told the girl in the office as they checked in.

"Thank you," she said with a pleasant smile. "The owner moved here from North Carolina six years ago and remodeled the whole place. Before him this was just a beat up run down shack."

Eliot glanced to Claire when her home state was mentioned and his mouth twitched into a small smile when her eyes shone eagerly.

"North Carolina?" She asked.

"Yeah, he had a bed and breakfast there too for a while, but he says the tourism industry is better here," the girl told her with a shrug.

Recognition flashed across Claire's eyes as she spotted a picture on the wall behind the desk. "Is that him?" she asked as she pointed to the photo. It was a picture of a man and a woman standing in front of a large sail boat.

"Yeah, that's him. Mr. Shauffner."

"Somebody say my name?" A voice asked from behind them. Eliot and Claire turned to find the face from the photo smiling at them easily. His eyes widened when his glance fell on Claire and for a moment Eliot saw something wistful cross his face. He stared at Claire for a long moment and that's when Eliot knew something was up.

He was missing something.

"You look just like an old friend of mine," Mr. Shauffner said as he finally stopped staring. "But it's been too long for her to still be your age. It's astonishing how much you resemble her though."

There was a struggle displayed on Claire's face for a brief moment before she held her hand out for a shake. "I'm …_Claire_." She said as she gave the older man a look that meant something. Eliot couldn't be sure what but it almost seemed like she was encouraging this man to remember something.

She had to be or else she wouldn't have used her real name.

"No," Mr. Shauffner said with a skeptical grin. "That can't be. The woman I knew had a daughter named Claire."

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, she did. A daughter who's been told quite frequently that she looks just like her mother."

"You're Ronnie's daughter?" He asked in an excited but disbelieving tone. "God, the last time I saw you, you were…what? Ten years old?"

"Probably," Claire said with a pleasant smile.

"Next time I came to town you and your mom weren't around. Everette said she took you and moved to California," Mr. Shauffner said with a sad smile. "Didn't even get to say goodbye. How's Ronnie, anyway?"

If Eliot didn't already know Claire hadn't spoken to her mother in years he never would have guessed from the way she responded to his question. She didn't flinch or hesitate.

"Oh, you know mom," she said with a chuckle. "Always out there exploring. Last I heard she was in Europe somewhere."

"Well, tell her I said hi and to come by and visit anytime, okay?" Mr. Shauffner asked with a warm smile.

"Will do," Claire said with a nod.

"Small world," He said with a chuckle. "Of all the places you could have stayed on this island you ended up here."

Eliot suddenly pictured Hardison making the reservations and got the feeling that it wasn't as much of a coincidence as it seemed. Mr. Shauffner suddenly turned to him and smiled brightly.

"I'm sorry, I haven't gotten your name yet, son," Mr. Shauffner said as he held out a hand for a handshake.

"Chapel," he said with a friendly smile as he shook the man's hand. "Roy Chapel." Claire's alias might be blown but his wasn't.

"Well, Mr. Chapel, you two have fun. You be good to her, alright? If she's anything like her mother you're gonna want to keep her around for a while," Mr. Shauffner told him as he turned and winked at Claire. "I've got a meeting at the Chamber of Commerce just now but I'll see you both around." Mr. Shauffner looked at the girl behind the desk. "They get the royal treatment, got that, Felicia? She's a hometown girl."

Felicia chuckled at him and nodded. "Yes, sir."

Mr. Shauffner waved and then left them all alone again. The look on Claire's face as he left was blank and impassive like she didn't really know what to think or feel about this latest turn of events. Neither did Eliot really. He'd learned more about Claire's past in that brief conversation than in the entire seven years he'd known her. Felicia showed them to their room and when the door was closed behind them Claire sat down on the large comfortable bed and kicked her shoes off.

"Next time I see Hardison," she said with a deep breath and a deceptive air of calm. "I'm gonna kill him. He did not just _happen_ to pick this place."

"Anything I need to worry about with that guy?" Eliot asked her in concern. He didn't know what the connection to Mr. Shauffner was but if it was going to put Claire in danger he'd kill Hardison himself.

"No," she said dismissively. "He was a boyfriend of my mother's for a while. She squeezed every bit of money she could out of him. He has no idea that she didn't care about anything else. He's harmless. In fact, of all her marks he was probably the one that was the nicest to me. I have nothing but pleasant memories of him. So, I think we're fine. I would just rather not have run into my past unexpectedly. Plus, this means you're little hacker buddy is snooping around and I'm not okay with that."

"Sorry, darlin'," Eliot said with a sigh as he sat down next to her. "Not much I can do to stop him. If I threaten him he'll do it anyway. After what we just went through with Moreau he probably feels we can't be too careful."

"I don't care so much about him gathering the information as I do about his willingness to throw it in my face," she said with a stern expression as she stared at the carpet. "Harmless or not, I don't appreciate being ambushed."

That he understood completely. Hardison may have seen it as a joke, a way to mess with Claire, but it wasn't particularly funny. Not to Claire and not to Eliot. "I'll talk to him when we get back." He nudged her gently to get her attention before he continued. "For now, let's go find lunch. I'm starving."

She nodded. "Let me change first. It's warmer out there than I expected." She turned and placed a slow kiss on Eliot's lips before she pulled back and smiled warmly at him. "This was still a wonderful idea, Spencer. Thank you. I promise I won't let this ruin the trip."

"Don't mention it," he said as he leaned forward and kissed her once more for good measure before she began to look through her bag for a change of clothes.

She changed into a lightweight strappy sundress and sandals and then they set off for town. They parked along the sidewalk of the main street that ran through the small beach town where all the local shops and restaurants were and then they went exploring hand in hand.

"This place is so cute," Claire said as she looked around the street. "It reminds me of New Bern back home. We used to go there once every summer with my grandparents. It's on the water too. It had about fifty times the humidity of this place but it had the same vibe this island does."

"Local involvement always makes a place better," Eliot told her in agreement. "And I am all for local restaurants outnumbering franchises." He spotted a restaurant up ahead that looked like a good casual place to get lunch. It reminded him of a classic diner and he was pleased to see that the menu reflected that. He stopped when they reached it and turned to look at Claire questioningly. "How's this?"

She nodded at him with a playful grin. "If you think it looks good then I'm up for it. You're the food guy. I defer to you."

He chuckled and led her inside. "You defer to me, huh?" He asked teasingly. "That never happens."

"Yeah, I wouldn't get used to it if I were you," she said with a smirk as they stopped at the hostess station to get a table.

Eliot wanted to ask about some of the other things Shauffner had mentioned in that short conversation. He'd mentioned her mother had moved them to California and by the sound of it she hadn't lived in North Carolina since she was, at most, eleven. Shauffner didn't live in her home town because he mentioned coming "_back_ to town". So where did he travel to and from? And then Claire had said he was "one" of her mother's marks. And it was interesting that she'd used the work "mark" instead of boyfriend. Did her mother often con men from their own home town? On her own home turf? That was risky for anyone no matter how good you were. But he didn't ask these things because he knew that Claire would bring them up if she wanted to talk about them. She hadn't so he assumed she didn't.

She never pressed him for more information than he wanted to give so he was going to return the favor. Even if he was curious as hell.


	14. Part Two, Chapter Five: Trouble

**A/N**: This one may be a little shorter than the last one. I'm not sure. I've been working on a lot of Librarians fics lately for Librarians Fic Week next week and almost didn't get this chapter finished in time to post! But luckily I found time to finish it for you guys! I hope you like it!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

**PART TWO: Mosaic Broken Hearts**

by angellwings

* * *

Chapter Five: Trouble

* * *

The rest of the day had been amazingly uneventful and Claire and himself had relaxed into it. After lunch they went and enjoyed the beach for the afternoon. He was right. Claire knew how to wear a swimsuit very well. She'd bought a simple black bikini and she looked damn good in it. They'd wasted the afternoon soaking in the sun and splashing around in the water. She'd even convinced him to build a sand castle with her. He hadn't done that since he was a kid. It was an afternoon that felt oddly normal and that was full of laughter. It was a welcome change for both of them.

They came back to the room covered in sand and both took showers before changing clothes for dinner. He planned to take her out for a nice dinner. She broke out one of her new cocktail dresses that Tara had helped her pick out and completely floored him. It was red, short, and strapless. All things that were very appealing on her. As a result they left for dinner a little later than he'd initially planned. But the delay was well worth it if he did say so himself.

Dinner had been delicious and Eliot was very impressed with the local restaurants and the quality of their food. He'd caught Claire smiling fondly at him more than once as he gushed about certain items on both of their plates. Now, they were at a local bar for after dinner drinks. They were sitting at a small elevated table near the actual bar. Eliot had a beer. It was a local brew that he'd never had before and Claire had a cocktail of some kind that he didn't recognize.

It was really unnerving how absolutely ordinary all of this felt. The calm left him paranoid because his life wasn't ordinary and too much calm usually meant trouble was on the horizon. And if the way Claire was nervously wringing her hands was any indication she was thinking the exact same thing.

"This is weird," Eliot finally said. "Nice, but weird."

"You mean the fact that we've had nearly three days without anyone trying to kill either of us?" She asked him with a smirk.

"Yes, that is exactly what I mean," he said with a chuckle.

"It's very weird," she agreed. "I sort of feel like I'm living someone else's life right now, honestly. Or…"

"Or what?" He asked when she stopped abruptly.

"Or that this is what my life could have been like if I'd never become a grifter," she said honestly as she leaned into him a bit more. His arm was around the back of her chair and the hand that rested by her shoulder gently caressed the side of it as she spoke.

"If you'd never been a grifter we wouldn't have met, sweetheart," he said as he leaned toward her ear to whisper.

She blushed and turned to smile softly at him. She brought a hand up to his face and traced a thumb over his cheek. "Well, we can't have that, can we?"

He shook his head and then turned to place a quick kiss on the palm of the hand that had caressed his face so lovingly. Then he met her blue eyes with his own and answered her, "No we can't."

There was movement over by the bar and Claire's eyes drifted from his. "Isn't that Felicia from front desk?" She asked as she motioned to the bar with a nod of her head. He followed her gaze to see Felicia with a young man leaning into her personal space. Felicia did not appear to be enjoying his attention but that didn't stop the man from leering at her. The man's hand moved over Felicia's drink to pay the bartender and he felt Claire tense next to him. She'd noticed something that he'd missed. Felicia then grabbed her drink and moved to the far corner of the bar but the young man's eyes never left her. Claire cursed and then turned back to Eliot.

"I'll be right back," she said with a sigh. "Watch my drink."

She left the table before he could ask her what she was up to. He watched as she approached Felicia and started a friendly conversation after a second or two Claire tripped over her own feet and appeared to accidentally knock the drink out of Felicia's hand. The contents of the drink spilled completely onto the bar and Claire apologized and ordered Felicia a replacement drink. He noticed Claire made sure to accept the drink directly from the bar tender before handing it to Felicia. Felicia nodded her thanks and then moved away from the bar completely.

Eliot assumed that would be the end of it but Claire didn't come back. No, instead she moved to the stool that Felicia had occupied and ordered herself a drink. The young man did the same thing to Claire. He leaned way in to talk to her and he even touched her shoulder once or twice. Eliot's hands clenched into fists but he stayed put. He didn't know what she was up to and he didn't want to blow it for her. She shot the young man down as the bar tender brought Claire's drink and another beer for the man next to her. He pulled the same move and started to reach _over_ Claire's drink to accept a napkin from the bar tender.

But Claire's hand shot out and caught the man's wrist before he could. She focused a glare on him and then tapped the man's closed fist with her other hand. He couldn't hear what she was saying to him but the man eventually opened his hand to reveal a small pill. Eliot tensed even more. That's what she'd seen that he hadn't. The jackass had attempted to drug Felicia. Claire looked at the bar tender who had been watching the two of them closely and said something else. As the bar tender reached for the phone the man broke his wrist out of Claire's grasp and ran. Claire looked over at Eliot and gave him a small apologetic smile.

He sighed in resignation and reached the door just ahead of the man from the bar and quickly held out his arm to stop him. The man's chest and shoulders hit Eliot's arm at a high speed. He crumpled to the ground with a whimper as Eliot clotheslined him. Eliot yanked the man up by the collar of his shirt and pulled him back over to the bar. He tried to run again but Eliot rolled his eyes and shoved him back down on the bar stool.

"Sit your ass down and don't move," Eliot said with a growl.

"You can't hold me here," the man yelled angrily.

"The hell we can't," Claire said with a livid glare of her own as she came to stand beside of Eliot. "You're going to stay right where you are until the authorities get here and then you can explain to them why you tried to drug not one but two women in this bar tonight. How's that sound?"

"Sounds like you're a bitch," the man muttered. "That's what it sounds like."

Claire laughed but kept a cool gaze on the lowlife in front of her. "You better believe it. I've got a right to be a bitch to any man who tries to drug me."

The man opened his mouth to speak again but Eliot quirked a brow at him and tightened his grip on the man's shirt collar. The man promptly shut his mouth.

"Yeah, shutting up is the best option you have right now. Unless you want to find out what would happen to you if you talk to her like that one more time," Eliot said threateningly.

They only had to wait a few more minutes for the cops to arrive. They took the man into custody, Claire gave a quick statement to the police, and then Claire and Eliot decided to leave the bar. Everyone was aware of their presence now and kept staring. Having a room full of people watching you shamelessly was unnerving. Once they were out on the sidewalk, Claire slipped her arm through Eliot's.

"Sorry about that," she said with a sigh. "Once I saw what he was doing I couldn't just let him get away with it."

"No need to apologize. I would've done the same thing. 'Course, my way would have been a lot louder and involved a lot more screaming but your way worked too," Eliot said as he leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. "How did you spot that, by the way? I've got good eyes and even I missed that the first time around."

"I've seen it enough to recognize it," she said in a regretful tone. "The men in Moreau's crew were not _nice_ men. They were more the 'take what I can and give nothing back' kind. Chapman and Moreau let them get away with a lot more after you left. I couldn't do anything about it without blowing my cover so I had to watch it happen and keep my mouth shut. But I didn't have to keep my mouth shut tonight. No way was I going to watch that play out again."

He could feel the guilt and the shame rolling off of her. They probably added to the victims she undoubtedly saw in her nightmares, he thought. Often times, it the things you don't speak up about that weigh you down the most. She was an accomplice by association. She stopped walking and when he turned to look at her he found her sitting on a public bench with her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Her shoulders were shaking slightly as he settled down next to her and pulled her into his arms.

She let out a bitter soggy chuckle before she spoke again and hesitantly looked up at him. "Wow, I _am_ a monster. I just let that happen under my nose for my own selfish survival. I should've stopped them and damned the consequences. Those women were all hurt because I did nothing to stop it. I—_oh god_. Nothing I do is ever going to make that right. Nothing."

He gave her an understanding look and then gently brushed her hair out of her face. "I hate to be the one to remind you of this, darlin'," he said softly as he made sure to keep her eyes focused on his. "But _you're_ a victim, too. I know you don't like to think of it that way and I don't much blame you, but you are." She attempted to pull away from him but he refused to let her. She needed to hear this. She needed someone to say it and it was going to have to be him. "You were hurt too. And I can see just how deep that hurt goes. You had no good options. You did the best with what you had. That's all anyone can ask of you. You're a damn strong woman, Claire, but there are some things that you can't fix and some people that you can't save. The people who hurt those girls, they're the ones responsible. Don't put the blame entirely on your shoulders. It'll crush you if you let it." He pressed his forehead to hers and watched her close her eyes. Tear tracks were already covering her cheeks and she wrapped her arms around him even tighter. "You deserve as much concern as anyone else he hurt, sweetheart. You really do."

He pulled her up from the bench and held her tight against his side as they walked back to where he'd parked the car. She cried the whole drive back to the bed and breakfast but she wasn't shaking with sobs and she was able to breathe. That was a step forward. He had a feeling tonight would be a bad night for her though. He'd never wished he could take on someone else's pain more than he did at this very moment. He would gladly take all of this on for her if he could.

But healing didn't work that way. They only thing he could do is be there to offer her support when she needed it. No matter how much it killed him to watch her suffer.

When they made it back to the room she didn't bother to change clothes. She simply pulled her heels off and then collapsed into the bed with her face in the pillows. He followed her lead and pulled her out of the pillows to rest against his chest. His instinct about her having a rough night had been completely accurate. She'd tossed and turned and whimpered and woke up gasping for air more than once. She'd finally fallen in a deep sleep at about four in the morning. The minute her breathing deepened and her muscles relaxed against him was the minute he was finally able to get some sleep himself.

They both slept a very long time. Longer than his body typically allowed him to sleep. There were lots of reasons he only slept for an hour and a half. Most of them had to do with his own nightmares, but he also felt the need to keep an eye out for any enemies. Sleeping left you vulnerable and even though most nights it was unlikely he would be discovered he refused to take the chance. Yet, here lately, while sharing a bed with Claire he'd been sleeping much longer than he was accustomed. He hadn't decided whether that was healthy for him or a weakness that could be exploited. He, of course, woke up before her and discovered he'd been asleep five hours. That was the longest night of sleep he'd gotten in years. At first he was convinced the alarm clock on the bedside table was wrong. It had to be. And then he'd found his watch next to it and confirmed that the time was correct. It was 9 AM. He still had Claire cradled against his chest and his arm that she had her weight leaning against was numb and tingly. He sighed and kissed the top of her head. If he were honest he really didn't want to get up just yet. He liked lying next to Claire in the quiet. It felt comfortable and normal. He hadn't had much of either in a very longer time. Longer than he cared to admit. He reluctantly slid out of bed and decided to go for a run on the beach. He felt as if he'd been lazy too long and he needed to do something

The run left him plenty of time to think about Claire. He still wasn't sure what he ultimately wanted out of this. She was leaving when the two weeks were over. Did that mean that whatever this was between them would be over? And what exactly was this? He'd never been one to label relationships, especially after Aimee, and he wasn't sure what he and Claire had really needed a label to begin with. Nothing in either of their lives had ever fit in a label. Why would that change now? But he did know one thing that he felt he should tell her. One thing that he'd avoided telling her for the two years they'd both been with Moreau because he was afraid of how vulnerable it would make him. Something she'd never admitted to him either. In a way, he knew she felt it. He could see it sometimes in the way she looked at him. But, again, this seemed to fall under that same 'don't ask, don't tell' policy they'd stumbled into. Before the two weeks were over he wanted to be able to say he'd been honest with her about his feelings, at least. He doubted it would change her plans, but at least she'd know. She'd know that whatever else happened there would always be someone out there who loved her. With everything she'd been through she deserved that.

Now he just had to get up the nerve to say it.


	15. Part Two, Chapter Six: Peace

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long guys! I focused on Librarians Fic Week a couple of weeks ago and then exhausted myself so I took a week off, BUT I'm rewarding your patience with a chapter full of fluff! So there's that!

Thanks for enjoying this story guys!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

**PART TWO: Mosaic Broken Hearts**

by angellwings

* * *

Chapter Six: Peace

* * *

When he got back to the room, he found the bed empty and heard the water running. Claire must be in the shower. He looked at the clock beside the bed again and realized he'd been gone for an hour and a half. Breakfast would over downstairs by now. There was a knock at the door and Eliot tensed. Who would be knocking on their door? Did Claire order room service? He hesitantly answered the door to find Felicia standing there with a smile.

"Hi," she said with a sheepish smile. "Is Claire here?"

"She's in the shower," Eliot told her with an impassive expression.

Felicia handed him a tray of breakfast food before she spoke again. "I was just coming by to thank her for what she did last night. I didn't realized what had happened until I saw the cops dragging that lowlife out of the bar. Can you tell her I came by?"

Eliot smiled softly at her and nodded. "I'll let her know. Thanks for breakfast, by the way. We haven't had time to come downstairs yet."

"Your welcome. I thought that might be the case. I had the chef make up a couple of omelets for you guys. See you later, Mr. Chapel," Felicia said with a thankful smile before she turned and started to walk away.

He closed the door as she left and set the tray down on the table by the window. He knocked on the bathroom door and heard the water stop.

"Eliot?"

"Yeah, I'm back," he answered her. "Felicia brought breakfast by for us as a thank you for last night."

"She did? Okay, I'll be out in a minute," she said just before the water came back on.

A few minutes later the bathroom door opened and Claire stepped out in a fluffy robe tied at her waist. He watched for a moment as she towel dried her hair. When she finished she threw the towel behind her onto the bathroom floor and then gave him a challenging smirk. His eyes darted between her and the towel before he gave her an exasperated look.

"It's just _killing_ you, isn't it?" She asked teasingly as he pulled a wide thick toothed comb out of her travel case that was sitting on the bed. "The wet towel on the tile floor is absolutely torturing you," she said knowingly as she sat down the bed and watched him with an amused smirk while she combed her long wet hair.

She was right. It was killing him. The towel wouldn't dry and the floor would be wet. A wet tile floor was a feeling his feet did not enjoy. He huffed at her and then snatched the towel up off the floor. She laughed as she finished combing her hair and then followed him into the bathroom. She wrapped her arms around him from behind as he reached up to hang up the towel. He finished hanging it and then turned while still in her arms.

"You're adorable," she told him with a smirk as she lifted herself onto her toes to place a quick kiss on his nose. She started to pull away but he locked his arms around her waist and held her tightly against him.

She grinned at him but wrinkled her nose in disgust as she noticed his sweaty shirt. "You're all sweaty and I _just_ took a shower."

"Hey, you started it, darlin'," he said with a smirk. He leaned down and rubbed his wet face in the crook of her neck. She squirmed and squealed but couldn't pull away.

"Gross, Eliot! So _gross_!"

"Then I guess you'll have to shower again, _with me_ this time," Eliot said with a lop-sided grin and a single quirked eye brow.

"That so?" She asked with a chuckle. "Was that your genius plan all along?"

"Just because I'm the muscle doesn't mean I can't have some truly brilliant ideas," he told her with a wink.

"Oh, I have no doubt when it concerns your brilliance, Spencer. Trust me on that one," she said with a warm smile. "But let's hold off on that shower in favor of breakfast. I'm starving," she told him. "And I'm a little afraid we might let it get cold," she said with a slow sinful smirk.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned up on her toes again, and then kissed him slowly. There was want, passion, need, and…something else that felt a bit like gratitude in the kisses that followed. He didn't hesitate to return every single one of those sentiments. He lifted her easily and set her down on the bathroom counter without breaking the kiss for a single moment. He tugged at the sash on the robe and loosened it enough to pull the robe off of her shoulders. He transferred his kisses from her lips to her jaw and then down further to the crook of her neck. The feeling of his rapidly beating heart and the sound her ragged breathing only added to the heat in the air around them. She arched against him as he softly grazed the hollow above her collar bone with his teeth and then gently nipped at it.

Her breathing hitched and she placed a hand on either side of his face and used her hold to pull his lips back to hers. She let out a short whine as the kiss deepened and then wrapped her legs around his waist. He tightened his hold on her and lifted her again. This time he walked her them out of the bathroom and laid her down on the bed. She sat up on her elbows and grinned at him with a flushed face as he broke away from her and pulled his shirt over his head. He tossed it aside and eagerly returned to thoroughly kissing her. Between her being pressed against him in the bathroom and carrying her to the bed, her sash came untied and the robe fell open. His hands slipped under the robe and wrapped around her. He had one hand on her bare back, pressing her closer to him, and one resting on her stomach absently tracing a soft line with his thumb.

They pulled apart as she reached for the waist of his basketball shorts and she chuckled before she spoke in a low voice, "so much for breakfast."

"Darlin', I'd pick you over breakfast any day," Eliot told her with a wide grin. He wondered if she realized just how much of a compliment that was. Because while Eliot really loved food he didn't love it more than her.

* * *

By lunchtime Eliot finally made it to the shower _with Claire_, of course. It was safe to say that they ran out of hot water long before they managed to get any _actual_ showering done. The breakfast Felicia brought them sat cold, but not completely forgotten on the table in the room. Claire sat down at the table that face their small balcony after combing her hair for the second time that day.

She frowned at the tray. "I feel bad we never got to eat breakfast. It was so nice of her to bring it by."

Eliot sat down in the chair next to her and she immediately turned in the chair and placed her legs across his lap. "Us not getting to eat it doesn't change the thought behind the gesture," he told her as he rested his hands on her shapely bare legs. "Lunch is on it's way," he said before he could forget. "So, what do we want to do today?" he asked.

"More of this," she told him as she pointed between them with an affectionate smile. "And a little of that," she said as she pointed passed the balcony to the beach. "And dinner here. I've had enough of going out for one weekend," she said honestly.

They ate lunch in their room in the same positions, with her legs slung over Eliot's lap as they sat side-by-side. After lunch they went back out to the beach and Eliot decided this was his first true glimpse of who Claire was before him. Her wavy wind blown hair was tied up in to a pony tail that was pulled through the back of a Nantucket Island ball cap she'd bought on their first day. Her bikini was dark purple and her cover up was a simple pair of denim cut off shorts. She wore a pair of aviator sunglasses on her face and cheap flip-flops on her feet. Despite being stuck overseas for over ten years, she reminded him of some of the girls he'd grown up with: a lot of fun and a little wild with a touch of comfort thrown in.

Her people skills were more honed than his, always had been. Within half an hour of being on the beach she'd talked her way into a beach volleyball game hosted by a vacationing group of fraternity brothers. Eliot rolled his eyes and watched her in amusement as she manipulated her way to victory. Those boys were no match for Claire, who'd successfully faced off against mercenaries, criminals, and mob bosses. He chose not to point out the lack of challenge her chosen mark presented. She was having for too much fun for him to tease at the moment.

The volleyball game ending and she came running over to him with a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin and handed him one of the two beers she'd gotten out of them. She turned and waved to the group of guys who all looked crest-fallen at the sight of Eliot.

"You look like you're having fun," He said with a smirk.

"Oh, lots of it," she said with a smile. "I single handedly won that game for my team. Every guy on the other team was sufficiently distracted."

"Uh huh," he said as she stepped into his side and put an arm around his waist. "And all of that work for what? A couple of beers?"

"And the pride of a job well done," she said with a laugh as he wrapped an around her back and they walked back to the spot where they'd left their towels. They sat down on their towels and slowly sipped her victory beers. He had himself propped up with his hands and she leaned her back against him as they both people watched in silence.

They both spotted a group of young kids with kites and Eliot smiled softly. They all looked to be around the ages nine to eleven and having a blast. He assumed their parents were camped out somewhere on the same beach.

"I got a couple of nephews about that age," he told her as he motioned to the group of kids. "Haven't seen 'em in a couple of years, though. My sister's married to a Marine. Last I heard they were in Japan."

He didn't even have to think about whether or not he should tell Claire that. It just happened. It felt right and good and natural. He surprised himself with how easy it was to tell her that.

"You miss them?" She asked as she sat up and turned to face him.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "Well, a lot of the time. But it's better that way, I think. They're less likely to be in danger because of me if they're far away from me. You know?"

She nodded and smiled sadly at him. "I know. Are they anything like you were as a kid?" she asked wit a smirk. "I'd imagine you were a trouble making quarterback type."

He chuckled at her and nodded. "Pretty on the nose, actually."

"I never went to high school," she told him. She smiled softly at him before she continued, "But I have an uncle who you remind me of sometimes. So, I imagine the two of you played a similar role in high school."

"I remind you of your uncle? I'm not sure how I feel about that," he said with a smirk.

She smacked him playfully and rolled her eyes. "Occasionally. You _occasionally_ remind me of him. I think you'd like him, actually. I'm less certain that he'd like you." She said with a teasing wink. "You're trouble with a capital 't'."

"Not gonna question that," he told her with a chuckle.

"It's a good thing for you that I actually _like_ trouble," she told him as she leaned forward and kissed him quickly.

"Never would have guessed," he said dryly as he pulled her in for another kiss.

She laughed and kissed him one more time before she finished her beer and then stood up. "Well, I don't know about you," she told him. "But I'm going for a swim." She shimmied off her shorts and tossed a wink at him as she ran off toward the waves. He pulled his hair back before chasing after her. Even five years ago they'd never been able to be this free and open with each other. Seeing this side of Claire was new for him and he was definitely enjoying it.

"Oh! Cold, cold, cold!" he heard her exclaim as she jumped into the waves.

He laughed as he caught up with her and she looked at him with a wince.

"I forgot how cold east coast water is!" She yelled with a slight shiver before she took a deep breath and then plunged herself into the water. When she came back up she beamed at him. "Much better. Your turn."

He rolled his eyes at her and shook his head. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited to see just what she would do.

"Seriously? Is this because of your hair?" She asked teasingly. "I mean, really, it's a glorious mane and all, but is your hair really too good for the salt water, Spencer?"

He grinned at her and gave her a challenging look. Watching Claire create a conversation from nothing had always been one of his favorite things. He used to keep his half of their conversations silent simply to annoy her. Agitated Claire was a very attractive thing for him. That probably should concern him more than it did. There was a moment of silence and he could see her analyzing her options. He knew what she would do before she did it. He centered himself just seconds before she suddenly launched herself at him and attempted to pull him into the water. He fixed a flat stare on her as she continued to try and pull him under.

"Are you kidding me with this?" He asked in a dry tone.

He hadn't moved an inch. She didn't have enough force in her throw to make him falter at all. It was almost laughable. Like a mouse trying to move a boulder.

She released him and then backed up to circle him and squint at him thoughtfully. She was determined, he could tell. She ducked under the water again and he had only a moment to wonder what she was up to before he felt a tickle of her fingers against the underside of his knee. He had to admit it surprised him. He fidgeted and shifted his weight instinctually, but his stance stayed firm.

She surfaced and gave him a disappointed look. He merely chuckled and shook his head in response. "That all you got?"

"Oh, I'm not done yet, Cowboy," she said as her eyes sparkled mischievously. "I still have a few moves to play."

He watched her curiously as she slinked toward him. That was the only word to describe it. It was a slink. A slow, sexy slink. She didn't stop until her chest was pressed against his and she had one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck. She pressed her forehead against his and her lips hovered mere centimeters from his own. He moved to close the distance but she backed away just enough to avoid him catching her with a kiss. He was so determined to kiss her that as he leaned forward again he must have failed to notice one of her legs wrapping around his. Just as he reached her lips, she jerked her leg back across the back of his knees and they immediately buckled. He heard her laugh against his lips as he started to fall backwards and then locked his arms around her. Her squeal as she fell into the cold salt water with him was music to his ears.

They came to the surface a moment later with their arms still tangled around each other. Eliot pushed his wet hair back and then poked her side with a playful glare.

"That was a low-blow, Lanier."

"Oh yeah? Would you say it was…_below the belt_?" She asked as she wiggled her eyebrows at him suggestively and smirked.

He laughed at her and then pulled her in for a slow intrusive kiss. All of this, this whole weekend, was something they'd never had the luxury of doing. To be alone and yet completely open, to be so obviously happy with just each other's company and not care who saw, to not have anyone watching them for signs of weakness. They'd both laughed and smiled more this weekend than they had in years. He knew it was true for him and based on the clues she'd given him he knew that was the case for her too. He pulled back from the kiss and watched her for a moment as kept her eyes closed and breathed deeply.

"Okay," she said as her eyes fluttered open. "_That_ was a low-blow. I was not prepared for a kiss like that," she told him as she lightly tugged on a wet piece of his hair. "Jerk."

He chuckled and held her tighter against him. "Couldn't help it and for once I didn't feel like I had to."

She smiled warmly at him and then rested her chin against his shoulder as the held each other in calm silence for a long moment. "It is nice," she said finally. "To not feel as if we're being watched all the time and to feel free to just…_enjoy us_. We've never had a chance to do that."

He nodded and placed a kiss on her temple. "Well, we do now."

She lifted her head from his shoulder to give him a meaningful look. "Yes we do."


	16. Part Two, Chapter Seven: Harmony

**A/N: **The two songs used in this chapter later on are "I've Got You Under My Skin" by Frank Sinatra (well written by Cole Porter for a film in 1936 but more famously recorded by Sinatra) and The Bargain Store by Dolly Parton. Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

Chapter Seven: Harmony

* * *

They came back from the beach tired but relaxed and as they passed the office to go upstairs to their room Felicia came out of the office.

"Ms. Lanier!" She called as she followed after them.

Claire and Eliot turned and Felicia quickly approached them.

"Mr. Shauffner left this for you," Felicia said as she handed her an envelope. "He said to call him if you can't make it."

Claire's brow furrowed. "Okay. Can't make it to what?"

She pointed at the envelope. "It's all in there. I'll let you two get back to your vacation."

They turned and headed back toward the stairs. As they walked Claire opened the envelope and found a hand written note. Eliot watched her as she read it and as they reached the top of the stairs she turned give him a thoughtful look. "He wants us to have dinner with him on his boat tonight."

"He has a boat?" Eliot asked.

"He's from old southern money," Claire said with a shrug. "Should we go?"

"Do you want to?" Eliot asked her curiously.

"Well, I do feel sort of bad for him. My mother strung him along for years and he was totally devoted to her. He's a very nice man, or he was when I knew him," she said thoughtfully.

Eliot nodded in understanding. "Then we'll go if you want to. We were planning on a quiet dinner tonight anyway."

"True," she said as she turned to smile at him. She handed him the note. "You'll need that. It has directions on it." She glanced down at her watch. "We have an hour and a half. We should probably get ready." She smirked and winked at him. "No distractions this time."

"Darlin', you started it. Don't start anything and I won't have to finish it, will I?" He asked her with a smirk as they reached the door to their room.

* * *

They parked at the marina and followed the directions to Mr. Shauffner's boat and they paused outside of it for a brief moment.

"Boat?" Eliot asked her as he read the note again. "This is a yacht. It's huge."

"I told you," she said with another shrug. "Old southern money. His family used to be in the tobacco business. They got out with their fortune in tact in the early eighties. As far as I know all he has to do now is invest what he's got properly. No need for him to work ever again."

"So, he's not just rich. He's super rich," Eliot said with a nod. "Dream mark for a grifter."

"Why do you think my mother chose him?" She asked sarcastically. She took a deep fortifying breath and walked toward the yacht. "Let's get this show on the road."

"Hey," Eliot said as he reached out an arm to stop her. "You okay?"

She turned with a shaky smile. "Yeah, I just…I've been trying to separate myself from my mother for nearly a decade now and I just can't seem to escape her. Or any of my past it seems. It always finds me."

He pulled her into his side and then kissed her temple. "We don't have to do this, you know," he told her. "We can still bail."

"No," she told him. "I should do this. As uncomfortable as facing it might make me, it might help to remember a bit of who I was before…well before _everything_."

She busied her hands with smoothing the wrinkles on his shirt but her eyes looked nervous and uncertain. She wasn't positive it would help but she seemed willing to risk it.

"You made it!" Mr. Shauffner exclaimed as he appeared on the deck of the yacht. "I was afraid my directions might have been unclear." He held out a hand toward Claire to help her board the yacht. "Please, come aboard."

The anxious nerves in her eyes immediately vanished and were replaced with confidence and warmth that he knew she didn't feel. But if he didn't already know that, he never would have suspected. So, tonight would be a grift of sorts for her it seemed. Only deception, not theft, was the goal. Part of it seemed to be about deceiving herself too. Shauffner looped Claire's arm through his and escorted her to the upper deck. Eliot followed them closely.

"My staff will have dinner prepared for us in about half an hour. I thought in the mean time I would show you my music room," he said with a kind smile. "I know how you and your mother felt about music. I assume you both still enjoy it?"

She smiled kindly at him. "Not as much as we used to, but yes."

"That's a shame. Hearing your family sing harmony on any song was always a beautiful sound," he told her.

Eliot smiled slightly to himself. Of course she came from a musical family. Based on the acoustic concerts he used to hear from her when he worked for Moreau it only made sense. Mr. Shauffner opened the door to a room on the upper deck that revealed a beautifully furnished room with a piano, an expensive stereo system, and two guitars. There were several chairs placed around the room for an audience.

"Oh wow," Claire breathed reverently. "This is gorgeous." She released Shauffner's arm and slowly approached the piano. She played a chord and then smiled softly. "This is a Steinway."

He nodded with a grin. "Spared no expense. Would you like to play it?"

She turned sharply with a genuine speechless expression, which surprised Eliot. The grift seemed to have been forgotten in light of the music room around them.

"Oh no, I couldn't. I haven't played in years," she said with a shake of her head. "I wouldn't do a Steinway justice."

"Okay," Mr. Shauffner said with a kind smile. "If you feel that way about it then I'll play and…you sing. And don't tell me you can't do that because I know better. How many of your talent competitions did your mother drag me to?"

Claire laughed lightly. "Every single one."

"And how many of those did you win?" He asked knowingly.

Her soft expression faltered for a split second before it was replaced with an amused smile. "All but one."

"That's right," Mr. Shauffner told her. He then turned to face Eliot. "I don't know if you know this Mr. Chapel, but your girl here had the most beautiful voice in our tri-county area back home. In fact, I was told that's why her and her mother left town. To try and make it in Hollywood."

Eliot nodded and then smiled warmly at Claire. "I know about the voice. I didn't know about all the awards."

She blushed and rolled her eyes at the two of them. "There were small town talent shows. It's not like I won Star Search or anything."

"Your mother certainly thought you were capable of it," Shauffner reminded her. "And I don't think she was wrong. So, I play, you sing? Wanna give it a try?"

She bit her bottom lip hesitantly but nodded slowly after a moment. "Okay. Why the hell not?"

Mr. Shauffner smiled at her and then sat down at the piano. He patted the spot next to him and Claire sat down too. Eliot took a seat in one of the chairs close by. This would be interesting. He'd brought up his guitar to her the other night. He thought music might help her cope, the way cooking and food did for him. But he'd yet to push it. He wasn't sure how far he could push anything with Claire at the moment.

"Let's start with an American Standard, shall we?" Shauffner asked her with a small smirk. "Your mom used to love this one."

A melody started to play that Eliot recognized. Claire smiled hesitantly and nodded in recognition. "She does love Sinatra."

Claire's sultry voice began to sing "I've Got You Under my Skin" and Eliot flashbacked to all those times she'd played his guitar while sitting on the foot of his bed, years ago. They couldn't really go out without fear of Moreau finding out about the two of them, and even back then Eliot could tell Moreau had a bit of an obsession when it came to Claire. When Eliot wasn't doing wet work, he was supposed to keep an eye on her. And he did, but maybe he'd kept too close of an eye on her. He liked her more than he should have at the time. They both knew getting involved with Moreau constantly watching them was dangerous but they'd enjoyed each other too much to really care.

And then Moreau found them out and everything fell apart around them.

If there was ever a song that fit the two of them it was this song. He could tell Claire thought so too. She kept giving him small meaningful smiles while she sang. He could also tell she was enjoying using her voice again. He didn't know how much she'd gotten to after he'd left, but she should always be allowed to sing. He'd never heard anyone that sounded like her. The tone of her singing voice stuck with him even when he'd been forced to leave her behind.

For the first time since they'd arrived at the yacht she looked absolutely relaxed and at ease in her surroundings. Eliot thought it was the most beautiful sight he'd seen so far this weekend. Once that song finished, he spotted Claire glance longingly at the acoustic guitar on the stand next to the piano.

She bit her bottom lip and then turned to Mr. Shauffner. "Do you mind if I—" she cut off her question and pointed to the guitar.

Shauffner motioned to it and then grinned at her. "Be my guest."

She picked up the guitar and moved to the chair next to Eliot. She put the strap around her and moved her long hair to one shoulder as she reached around the guitar to strum with the pick Shauffner had given her. He didn't recognize this song, but Claire seemed to know it well. She closed her eyes and started to sing. The melody was slow and simple but strangely haunting. The weight of the words she was signing struck him hard. He knew she felt them as heavily as he did.

_"My life is likened to a bargain store, and I may have just what you're looking for. If you don't mind the fact that all the merchandise is used. But with a little mending it could be good as new. Now you take for instance this old broken heart. If you will just replace the missing part, you would be surprised to find how good it really is. Take it and you will never be sorry that you did. The bargain store is open, come inside. You can easily afford the price. Love is all you need to purchase all the merchandise. And I can guarantee you'll be completely satisfied."_

There was another verse and another chorus that she sang with her eyes completely closed. The meaning of the song and the words related to him as much as they related to her and he knew that was why they complimented each other so well. They had their pasts and their demons and the things they wished to forget. They had those moments they'd _never_ be able to forget. Their baggage was dark and heavy and twisted but they both now realized they weren't stuck with that baggage forever. It could be possible to let it go and move passed it. Their future was not set in stone.

Granted, Eliot didn't think he could ever redeem himself and he knew Claire thought the same thing about herself. But they could help other people redeem themselves, they could keep their hands from being any dirtier than they already were. And, for the first time, Eliot realized they could do that together. He just needed Claire to see that too.

Shauffner played a few more tunes that both he and Claire occasionally sang along with. Shauffner threw out a few more facts about her mother that Eliot made sure to file away. He'd also mentioned that he'd been good friends with her uncle. There had been several things that had come out tonight that painted a very different picture than he'd always imagined of Claire and her mother. If you went by what Shauffner thought of them then Claire and her mother had been a happy little family, but Eliot knew better. He heard it in her voice during those rare moments she mentioned her mother. He knew there was more to it than this fairy tale picture he was hearing about tonight.

And after that dinner was ready. The conversation was mundane but not uninteresting. Claire had been right. Mr. Shauffner was harmless. He was a lonely rich man who simply wanted to talk about better days and old friends. Eliot actually found himself liking the man. He was kind and seemed to genuinely care about people. Which, in Eliot's experience, was rare in someone who had as much money as Mr. Shauffner did.

After dinner there were drinks and light conversation where Eliot was asked what he did for a living and resulted in him regaling the man with cover story Hardision had created for Roy Chapel a few years back. And had led to he and Claire having to improvise a story about how they'd met. They'd somehow come up with a story that they'd met while he was doing press in Japan. Baseball was hugely popular in Japan and even minor league players were considered celebrities. Claire, it seemed, had decided to spin the tale that she was a back up singer for various musicians. It fit with what Shauffner already knew of her and explained her traveling and why she'd been gone for so long. So, they'd met in Japan while they were both working. When asked Eliot had used the date of the day he'd met her for the first time as a reference for how long Roy had known Claire. It was the easiest date to remember.

The small talk continued as Shauffner walked them off the yacht at the end of the night.

"You kids enjoy the rest of your honeymoon," He'd said as they stepped onto the dock.

There was a shocked silence that fell between the two of them as they exchanged looks that silently debated whether or not to correct him.

"You didn't think I knew, did you?" Shauffner asked with a chuckle. "Your reservation listed Mr. and Mrs. Chapel and based on how caught up in each other the two of you are—well, it just made sense."

Claire gave Eliot a look that was both resigned and amused before she chuckled and then smiled shyly at Mr. Shauffner. Apparenlty, they were going with the flow on this one.

"It wasn't something we really planned to do," Claire told him. "It was a last minute decision."

"Ah, guess Chapel, here, knows a good thing when he's got it then, huh?" Shauffner asked Eliot with a grin.

Eliot laughed and nodded before he put an arm around Claire's waist. "Yes, sir."

"We should take a photo to commemorate the occasion," Shauffner said as he pulled out his phone. He stepped off the yacht and then shuffled Eliot and Claire until they stood with the yacht and the name of the yacht behind them. "Good, right there." It happened so quickly that Eliot hadn't even thought that maybe it wasn't a good idea for this man to have either of their faces on his phone. He and Claire both were wanted people in certain areas of the world. "Beautiful," Shauffner said as he snapped the photo and then pocketed his phone. "I'll be sure to get a copy to you before you check out on Monday."

"I—well, thank you," Claire said hesitantly. He could tell she wasn't exactly comfortable with the idea of someone else having a photo of them either. If they'd possessed the only copy that would be different. They'd have control over it.

They turned and walked away from the yacht after exchanging goodbyes with him.

"Let's hope all he does with that photo is get it printed," Claire muttered to Eliot with a sigh.

Claire stopped as they reached the car and leaned into Eliot to press a quick kiss to his lips.

"Thank you," she said with a soft smile. "I know that probably wasn't very exciting for you and probably felt more like work considering all the cover stories we threw at him in there."

"No," he said as he shook his head and smiled at her in return. "It actually wasn't bad. Definitely worth it if it meant I got to hear you sing again. It's been too long since I heard your voice, darlin'."

"I did miss it," she admitted. "More than I thought I did, honestly. Playing guitar tonight…that felt _good_. Better than I've felt in a very long time. And now, I don't know, I feel a little…"

"Lighter?" Eliot asked knowingly.

She smiled and nodded. "Yes."

"That's how I feel after I've spent some time in a kitchen," Eliot said as he gave her a warm gaze. "Believe it or not, it helps. It's…therapeutic. Music might be that for you."

"Maybe," she said as she bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. She wasn't quite ready to admit to anything yet. He could tell. But she'd had a taste of music again and he could tell she wanted more.


	17. Part Two, Chapter Eight: Relaxation

Chapter Eight: Relaxation

* * *

Claire was silent on the drive back to the bed and breakfast, but he'd expected that. She had a lot to think about. When they made it up to the room Claire kicked off her shoes and flopped down on the bed. He grinned at her and followed suit.

"I think when we get back I want to go shopping for a guitar," she said thoughtfully. "I know you said I could use yours but a guitar feels like a very personal thing to me. Like…like an extension of myself. If that makes any sense."

"It makes sense," he assured her.

She turned to face him with a smile. "I haven't owned a guitar in years. I didn't even realized how much I missed it until I had one in my hands again."

"You had a guitar when I left," Eliot said with a furrowed brow.

"Moreau said one of the jet's crew 'lost' mine," She told him with a roll of her eyes. "Didn't buy it for a moment. Everyone knew he'd do anything to control me. Just another thing on the long list. I feel a little bit more like myself just thinking about having a guitar again. Why didn't I realize this sooner? I didn't even think about music until you brought it up a few days ago. And now I—I can't seem to stop hearing music in my head."

He rolled onto his side to face her just as she'd done a minute ago. "I think you'll remember more and more about yourself the more you distance yourself from Moreau." He brought one hand to her face and softly caressed the length of her face. "You look happier already."

She beamed at him and wrapped her arms around his middle. "Thank you," she said as she slid closer to him. "Thank you for talking me into staying for two weeks and thank you for bringing us here."

He chuckled and kissed her softly before he pulled back to speak. "That was just as much for me as it was for you. I spent so much time trying to put you behind me and I never once succeeded. Just tried to make due. And having you back suddenly…well I couldn't let you leave without a little one on one time."

"And I'm grateful you thought of it," she said as he wrapped his arms around her too and pulled her closer.

She smiled warmly at him and then closed the distance between them. She kissed him slowly and openly. At the end of the kiss she playfully nipped at his bottom lip. He let out a low chuckle and then rolled onto his back with her still held tightly against him. With her petite frame settled against his chest and their legs tangled together he felt no need to rush anything. Neither did she based on the pace she'd chosen for the kisses. Her hands were cradled on his chest in between them and his hands rested on her waist. He inched one hand toward the top of the zipper for her dress while the other kept her as close to him as possible.

As he brushed her hair off her back and carefully pulled the zipper down, she unbuttoned his shirt. Never once, though, did they cease kissing. Once he had the dress unzipped he slipped a hand underneath it. With one hand he squeezed and then released the clasp on her bra. She stopped kissing him for a brief moment to smirk against his lips. She had his shirt halfway unbuttoned and wasted no time reaching under the shirt to touch his skin. She surprised him though by stopping to feel each and every scar she found. She'd never done that before and he couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking. He did notice that the kissing seemed to intensify with each scar she discovered. There was something new happening here. He couldn't quite tell what her intention was but it left him feeling very…appreciated. Maybe even…loved? Was that what that was? He could never be sure with Claire. They both played emotions close to their chest. But it certainly felt reminiscent of love to him.

She pulled back from him slowly and shifted to straddle his lap. She gave him a sinful smirk as she slowly slid her arms out of the sleeveless satin dress she was wearing to reveal her bra that was loosely covering her breasts. His hands landed on her thighs and then moved upward to slide the skirt of the dress up as far as he could. She then slipped her arms out of the bra straps and tossed the bra off the bed and onto the floor before she held her arms up above her head and gave him an expectant look.

"Help a girl out of her dress, Spencer?" She asked him with a grin and a wink.

He smirked and peeled the dress up over her head. He dropped it off the edge of the bed and then immediately tangled his hands in her hair and pulled her down for a kiss. His hands moved from her hair and explored her exposed skin. She withheld from him enough that she led him into a sitting position as she leaned away from his kisses. As he sat up she finally managed to unbutton the last few buttons on his shirt. She pushed the shirt down on his shoulders and he took it the rest of the way. Pretty soon his shirt and pants and belt joined her dress and bra on the floor. This trip had definitely been one of his better ideas. He could tell Claire felt freer and lighter. There was more of _her_ in these kisses than he'd felt since her earliest days with Moreau.

* * *

The weight that had been lifted off of Claire's shoulders had caused something in her that was contagious. A giddy happiness spread through her to him and eventually it wore them both out. Claire never even bothered to get out of bed to wash her face or brush her teeth once they'd tired each other out. She simply curled her naked body into his as he pulled the covers around them. She'd fallen asleep shockingly fast, considering her last few nights. He'd been prepared for another bad night. She'd been confronted with a lot of her past tonight. He didn't want her to _have_ a bad night but he knew from personal experience that facing your past typically brought up a lot of bad memories in a way that felt as fresh as the day they happened.

He felt tired but he forced himself to stay awake to keep an eye on her. Two hours went by and she'd yet to even stir. She was out cold. Her muscles were relaxed and her breathing was deep and peaceful. He felt relief wash over him. This was the first night she seemed truly at ease. She snuggled further into him and he grinned sleepily before he kissed the top her head. If she was still in a deep sleep after two hours it was safe to say that he could sleep too. He instinctively wrapped his arms tighter around her as he drifted off.

He didn't know what time it was when he finally woke up but the sun was a lot lower in the sky than he was used to. He also noted that he wouldn't even be up now if his phone wasn't ringing shrilly from the nightstand. Claire whined against his chest and he swiftly grabbed the phone and slipped out of bed. He made sure Claire wasn't going to wake up before he threw on a pair of pants and slipped out onto the balcony. He glared at the name on the phone before he answered with a growl.

"What, Hardison?" He snapped.

"Sorry to interrupt your weekend of sex—"

He growled again and Hardison quickly moved on.

"—but we have a job."

"You've got to be shitting me."

"No, sadly I am not. Nate found us a job."

"We have _two weeks_ between jobs, Hardison. It hasn't even been _one_," Eliot said as he shook his head. "I'm gonna kill him."

"If the job doesn't kill him first," Hardison told him. "We're going mountain climbing with rich guys on Murder Mountain."

"Just tell me where to be and when to be there. I don't need the commentary."

He got the details he needed and then went about the unpleasant task of waking up Claire. He glanced at the clock and realized this was the longest either of them had slept since they'd started sharing a bed again. And it looked like Claire could go on sleeping if he didn't have to wake her up. He slid back into the bed next to her and lay down on his side to face her. What was the best way to do this? They didn't really have time to waste and yet every way he _wanted_ to wake her up would lead to just that. Almost as if she sensed his dilemma Claire stirred and then slowly her eyes opened. She yawned and then rolled over to face him with a sleepy smile.

"Good morning," she said pleasantly.

He grinned at her briefly before he huffed and shifted to his back. "It's morning, alright, but I don't know if there's much good about it."

"Well, that's a lovely sentence to wake up to," Claire said with sarcastic smirk. "What happened while I was asleep?"

"Hardison called."

She tensed a bit at the name and then sighed. "I'm assuming he had a good reason for that?"

"Nate found a job and if I don't go the bastard will get himself killed," Eliot told her with a huff.

She chuckled and scooted closer to him on the bed. "See, this is how I know you care about these people, you curse them and then resolve to keep them alive in the same sentence."

"Without me the only sane _and professional_ person he's got is Sophie. Parker's crazy and Hardison's too emotional. And Nate…well that's another issue altogether," he said. "Sophie can't handle that all on her own."

Claire nodded and then rested her head on his shoulder. "So, weekend's over a bit early then?"

"Yeah, Hardison is leaving about now, probably, and I'm leaving Boston tonight to meet everyone there tomorrow," he answered. "Don't want to leave you alone again, darlin', but I have to go."

She slipped her hand into his and squeezed his hand to interrupt his apology and get his attention. She shook her head before she spoke. "Stop. It's fine. I know you wouldn't be doing this job unless it was pretty major. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Focus on keeping yourself and your team safe. I can take care of myself."

"Hopefully, I won't be gone long," he told her. "According to Hardison, Nate says this job has a very specific window of opportunity. Based on that, I doubt it's a long con."

"Then I guess we should get packed and get going," she said as she sat up and glanced around the room. "We still have to fly back to Boston, and it's—" she stopped to look at the clock on the bedside table and her eyes widened in shock. "It's after _noon_. We slept until after noon? Well, I slept for sure. Did you sleep?"

He debated lying briefly because she would know what his sleeping longer with her meant. She knew him well enough to understand, even though it took _him_ a while to get what it really meant. He decided honesty was probably a good thing to start the morning with, though, so instead he nodded and then said, "You know, since I got back from San Lorenzo I've been sleeping longer than I normally do. I slept longer last night than I've slept in years."

She blushed very slightly and then smiled warmly at him. "Really? How interesting."

He chuckled and nodded again. "Very interesting. I wonder why that is?"

"Could it be because I've been wearing you out with amazing sex?" She asked with a cheeky grin.

He laughed and then smirked at her. "Well, I think it was certainly a contributing factor. But there might be a bit more to it than that."

Her grin faded and she gave him a once over that looked both joyful and frightened. She looked so conflicted that he didn't dare elaborate any further on what he meant. Maybe now wasn't the time. Maybe she wasn't ready to hear what he wanted to say. He decided to change the subject.

"You didn't have a nightmare last night," he told her.

"I didn't?" She asked as she looked at him thoughtfully. "Oh my God, I didn't! I guess between you and the music I wasn't so worried about the state of my immortal soul." She gave him a sad little smile before it grew into a larger happier one. "One step forward," she told him. "One day at a time."

He understood that completely. When you know where you'll end up when you die your subconscious and your dreams take a turn for the worse. He'd adjusted to this already. He'd come to terms with his past and what it meant for his future. His actions still haunted him but they haunted him in very different ways now. Claire was still accepting what she'd done and was still dealing with where she needed to go from here. Her conflicted expression earlier had worried him but knowing that he eased some of her worries and fears just by being there lifted a little of that worry off of him. She, at least, needed him even if she didn't love him quite yet.

They reluctantly got out of bed and dressed for the day. They had lunch brought up to the room and ate while they packed. Eliot called the airport and purchased two seats on a late afternoon flight back to Boston and then they headed downstairs to check out.

Eliot handed Felicia the key and she frowned at them.

"Leaving so soon?" She asked.

"We've got a bit of an urgent situation we have to deal with back home," Claire told her with a small smile. "Trust me, we don't _want_ to leave this early."

"Well, that's good to hear," Felicia told them as she printed out a copy of their final invoice. "Oh!" She said suddenly. "I almost forgot. Mr. Shauffner came by earlier and left something for the both of you." She reached behind the desk and then handed Eliot a document sized manila envelope with the invoice. "There you go and thanks for staying with us. Come back anytime."

Eliot smiled awkwardly at her and nodded. "We might just do that."

"Tell, Mr. Shauffner that we said thank you for everything, will you?" Claire asked Felicia. "He was very kind."

"Will do," Felicia agreed. "Have a safe flight."

They took their bags to the rental car and loaded up to head to the airport. Eliot handed her the envelope as he settled into the driver's side and started down the road. She opened it and found three copies of their photo from the night before. One large 8x10 and 2 small 4x6 copies. Despite the awkwardness they both felt about the photo at the time, it had turned out really well. They both looked relaxed, which considering her profession and his was no small feat. And they looked…_happy_. Eliot smiled softly while Claire showed him the photos. As she carefully tucked them back into the safety of the envelope he reached over and took one of her hands in his. She gave him a small pleasantly surprised smile and intertwined her fingers through his in return.

The drive to the airport was comfortably silent. They both had the ability to enjoy the moment without needing to fill it with a lot of small talk. Sometimes conversation just got in the way. The weekend had done what he hoped but yet not in the way that he had planned. Claire was relaxed and appeared to be in a much healthier headspace than she had been, but it hadn't been talking that had done that. No, it was music. He should have known right away that music was what she needed all along. But he hadn't and he wouldn't have thought of it without coming here and running into Shauffner. He had suggested it to her, yes, but only because it was a part of who she'd been before Moreau, before _him_ even. Now that he knew it would help her, he had a few ideas of things they could do when he got back.

This job better be worth it. He only had two weeks to begin with and he didn't want to waste any of it.


	18. Part Two, Chapter Nine: Aftermath

Mosaic Broken Hearts

by angellwings

Chapter Nine: Aftermath

Eliot wasn't even going to bother with going back to his apartment. He could purchase cold weather gear more easily than he could dig out his own. There was also no point to him going home when he'd be coming straight back to the airport not even half an hour later. He didn't like it but it made the most sense.

Before they reached the exit from the terminal, where Claire would exit to the taxis and Eliot would stay behind he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Be careful," he told her. "And let Tara or Shelley know if you need anything, okay?"

She nodded and then pulled him in for a slow lengthy kiss. When they separated she placed one hand on his cheek and spoke with a firm tone. "Watch your back, Spencer. Come back to me in one piece, okay?"

He smiled softly at her. "I'll try," he told her. Really that was the most he could promise.

"You'd better," she told him before she kissed him once again.

He pulled back from her and then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll call you when we're done."

"Hurry back. I still owe you just over a week, you know," she said with a wink.

"Trust me, I'm aware," he said with a smirk. "Looking forward to it."

She nodded again and started to walk away from him, but she almost immediately stepped back into his space and wrapped her arms around his neck. He returned the embrace and placed a quick kiss to her neck.

She adjusted to look him in the eye for a long moment. She looked hesitant and unsure as if she had something she wanted to say but didn't know how to actually say it. "I'll, um—I'll miss you , Eliot."

"I'll miss you too, darlin'," he told her honestly. He would but if he were honest he meant a different word altogether. If he wasn't going to say that word just yet then telling her he'd miss her was a satisfactory placeholder.

After that she let go of him and then slowly walked away from him with a soft smile on her face. She waved as she stepped onto the down escalator and he watched her go until she was out of sight. He didn't like not seeing her home, but he didn't have much choice. He was worried. Worried about her, about his team. He worried about her not getting enough sleep, about her having those nightmares again, about her not having anyone to be there for her when she did. He worried about what woukd happen to Nate, Parker, Sophie, and Hardison if he didn't show up for the job. Right now one set of worries was more time sensitive than the other. Besides, Claire had told him yesterday not to worry about her. He knew that she was right. She could take care of herself, and if she needed any immediately assistance she knew to call Shelley or Tara. They were more than capable back up.

As usual, the job had it's fair share of complications and hiccups. And Nate put them all at risk. More than he should have probably. When he told Claire the roles the team played, he never imagined that this job would shift all of them. This time Parker was the emotional one and Nate was the crazy one. Seeing Parker so emotional had caused him more than a few struggles himself. She wanted to do the right thing. To bring a man home who'd not gotten any closure with the love of his life. She wanted to make the team proud. She wanted so badly to do the right thing that she'd forgotten that sometimes the right thing isn't always possible. To be honest, he would have given anything to help Parker do the right thing. He had tried after all but he wasn't going to sacrifice her safety. He wasn't going to lose her to save a man who was already dead. He would never do that.

He hated to admit it but Claire was right. These people were as good as family and he'd never leave any of them behind. He hadn't gone looking for a family. Hell, he'd spent a lot of his recent years hiding from his own relatives. But it seems a family had found him anyway, and he was too far in it now to get out. They were all under his skin and in his heart and he didn't have the conviction to kick them out of it. In fact, sometimes he even enjoyed having them around.

When he finally arrived back home just over 48 hours later, he was exhausted, emotionally and physically. Watching a couple say goodbye through a video taken on a smart phone had gotten to him too. The man had used his dying moments to remind his wife how much he loved her. They were words she'd clearly needed to hear and part of a goodbye that was almost lost forever on that mountain. It only reinforced what he knew he felt for Claire and what he _needed_ to tell her.

He unlocked the door and opened it to find an empty and dark living room. He looked down at his watch and realized it was nearly four in the morning. He glanced between the two bedrooms and wondered which one Claire had slept in. She'd briefly mentioned that she'd been unable to sleep in his bed while he was in San Lorenzo. He set his duffle down on the couch and then stepped softly toward the guest bedroom. He opened the door carefully and peeked into the room. Sure enough, there she was. Sound asleep on his guest bed. He opened the door a little wider and left his shoes by the door. He stealthily crawled into the bed next to her and watched her sleep for a moment. She must have felt the mattress shift or his body heat because barely a moment after he'd settled in she was scooting toward him in her sleep and curling herself into him. Not even five minutes later he was falling asleep with her safely tucked into his chest.

He woke up several hours later and found Claire watching him with a warm smile.

"Well, good morning," she told him with a grin as his eyes blinked open. "I see someone forgot to call me when the job was done."

"I was in a rush to get off that damn mountain," Eliot told her honestly.

She chuckled and then kissed his nose briefly. "At least you're in one piece. Everybody else, okay?"

He nodded. "We're all fine. And the bad guy's locked away."

"Business as usual then," Claire said with a smile.

"Something like that," Eliot agreed with a chuckle. "Any problems while I was gone?"

"No. Not unless you count Shelley introducing me to _Firefly_ as a problem," Claire said as she rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin on Eliot's chest.

"What the hell is _Firefly_?" Eliot asked with a quirked brow.

"A TV show that was cancelled. Sort of like a Space Western," she said with a grin. "You'd like it."

"Sounds more like something Hardison would be into," Eliot said skeptically.

"That may be true but it reminded me of you," she said with a smile and a shrug.

"Speaking of Hardison," Eliot said as he brought a hand around her back and slipped it into the ends of her hair. "We're supposed to have dinner at Nate's tonight."

She sighed and nodded. "Okay." She didn't look very excited. In fact, she looked a bit wary.

"Alright, what is it? What's with the look?" He asked.

"I—I know these people are your family and Nate and Parker I'm fine with. I don't think it's any secret that I have a dislike for Hardison so there's that, but there's also…"

"Also what?"

"Sophie is way too perceptive, Eliot," she told him reluctantly. "I did not like the way she just announced her analysis to the room the last time that I saw her. I don't like to share those things for a reason and she just blurted it out to everyone. I'm not exactly comfortable with that."

"She's not gonna do that tonight, darlin', this isn't a work thing," Eliot said as he placed a comforting hand on her back and held a little closer. "Just…think of it as a family dinner. Play nice for a night and then it's over."

Her doubtful expression turned into a smile and curious look as she spoke. "Finally admitting they're your family then?"

"Not to them, not to anyone else. Only to you. Got that?" He asked her with a pointed glance and lop sided grin.

She chuckled at him but gave him a reassuring smile. "I won't tell a soul. Promise."

"So, breakfast?" He asked her.

"Would I ever turn down a meal prepared by Eliot Spencer?" She asked him with a chuckle. "Do you know me at all?" They got out of bed and she quirked a brow at him as she put on her robe. "You're still in your clothes? Were you that exhausted?" She asked in concern.

He looked down at himself as he remembered how tired he'd been the night before and sighed. "It was a rough one, Claire. All the way around."

She must have seen something in his face that gave away just how effected he'd been because she looked alarmed and the next thing she said was, "That bad? I thought you said you won? I haven't seen that look since…since before you left Moreau."

His eyes met hers and he immediately shook his head to ease her worries. "Not like that," he told her. "It was physically and emotionally trying. It got to everyone on the team and our roles got all flipped around and I felt like I had to compensate for that. It was just…one of those jobs that made me think. It made me think _a lot_."

She crossed the room to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Think about what?"

"My crew, my life…_you_," he said as he rested his hands on her waist. "_Everything_. I watched a wife who lost her husband months earlier finally get a goodbye. It was a video goodbye in a tent full of people, but…watching it you would have thought he was actually there with her and they were all alone. It was so…intimate. In the grand scheme of things, those two had so little time together. Makes you wonder if it was worth it, you know? If the pain of losing someone outweighs the time you had them with you. Makes you question whether that should make you more cautious or force you to take more chances."

Her eyes analyzed his expressions and her eyes watched him with heightened interest. "And what conclusions did you come to?" She asked him.

"Part of that conclusion depends on you, I guess," Eliot said honestly. "And on what you're willing to risk."

"Eliot, I have kept myself from feeling anything for years," she told him with a shake of her head. "I've been truly free for just over a week and letting myself feel anything again or show what I'm really feeling is something I struggle with every day. I _never_ want to deny how I feel about anyone or anything ever again. If I do that I—well, I think I would stop being human altogether. I never thought I would survive Moreau but now that I have I can't go on living like a prisoner anymore. That would be a waste of everyone's time."

"That's what I was hoping you'd say," he said with a grin.

"And you?" She asked him hesitantly. "What are you willing to risk, Spencer?"

"To me, risking something, means I'm willing to fight for it. To protect it. What we have is certainly worth fighting the odds for. Now that I've got you back, I'd go through hell before I'd let you go again. You got that?" He told her confidently. "Doesn't matter to me that you want to leave or go off and find yourself. I'm always gonna be here when you come back."

She smiled affectionately at him and nodded. "And I'm always gonna come back. You know that right? Leaving doesn't always mean forever."

He reached out and tucked a loose frizzy wave behind her ear. It was an unintentional reminder of how much of her true self she was letting him see. "I know that _now_," he admitted honestly.

She chuckled at him and shook her head. "All this time, you really thought when I was talking about leaving that I meant to stay gone? Really?"

"When I leave people I tend to stay gone," he told her. "I just assumed it would be the same for you."

"Yeah, well, you know what they say about assuming, don't you?" She asked him with a quirked brow and a smirk.

"Trust me, darlin', I'll never assume anything about you ever again," Eliot said with a smirk.

Claire grinned at him and chuckled. "You better not."

She released him and turned to head toward the kitchen when he suddenly felt brave. He'd danced all around it. It was time to actually say it.

"Hey, Claire?" He called after her. She turned in the doorway and gave him an expectant look. He gave her the tiniest of smiles before he took a deep breath and said, "I love you."

She froze, swallowed thickly, and then took a shaky breath in and out. Her mouth fell open and she blinked at him for a long painful moment. He wondered if he'd scared her or if he'd just made a mistake. Then she brought a hands to her chest to rest over her heart and gave him a huge watery smile.

"You—you what?" She asked with a soggy nervous laugh.

"I love you," he repeated.

She shook her head at him and sniffled but continued to smile. "I—I never thought—I never thought I'd hear you actually say those words."

He walked the few steps toward her and closed the distance between them. He could see tears in her eyes and brought a hand to her face to wipe away a single tear that had escaped. "Don't leave me hangin', Lanier. You're killing me, here."

She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck again. "I—of course I love you, Eliot. I really do. I so completely _love_ you."

That was all he needed to hear. She'd barely gotten out the words before his lips had seized hers. She'd made a surprised sound against his lips but quickly sunk into it as his hands tightened on her hips and squeezed just slightly. She pulled back enough to smile against him. When she returned to kissing him she backed him up toward the bed. Once again, Eliot thought in amusement, breakfast would have to wait.


	19. Part Two, Chapter Ten: Melody

**A/N: **This is short filler chapter but it has been a while since I updated and I thought I should probably post something for you guys. ;) Next chapter will be meatier, I promise.

Also, the song in this chapter is by Tori Kelly. I definitely did not write it.

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

PART TWO: Mosaic Broken Hearts

by angellwings

* * *

Chapter Ten: Melody

* * *

Once they'd managed to get up and actually make it through breakfast without any further…interruptions they got dressed and then Eliot spotted his guitar on a stand in the corner of the living room. He'd never bought a stand for his. He typically kept it in the case until he was in the frame of mind to play. It being out must have meant that Claire had taken his offer to let her use it to heart.

"You been playing?" He asked her as he motioned to the guitar.

She smiled and nodded before she held up a small black journal. "And writing."

His eyebrows rose and he gave her an impressed look. "Really? I haven't seen you writing since just after you joined up with Moreau."

She shrugged and smiled sadly. "I didn't see much point in it once I realized I was…stuck. But I'm not stuck anymore and it's been sort of therapeutic. It seemed to help with the nightmares while you weren't here," she said honestly. "Made me feel a bit nostalgic, actually. Song writing has always been what I did in place of writing in a diary. I found a bit of my old self when I put that pen to paper." She set the notebook down on the coffee table and then came to stand in front of him with a grin. "If fact, I'm almost certain that music is to me what food is to you."

"Well," Eliot told her with a grin. "If that's the case you'll probably need your own guitar."

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" Claire asked with a smirk. "Do you want to go guitar shopping?"

"You know you want to," Eliot said with a chuckle. "Why not?"

"Can't think of a single reason," she told him happily. "Know any good music shops?"

He nodded. "Visited a few of them in the city after that job in Tennessee."

"Oh right, you never did tell me that whole story," She told him pointedly.

He cleared his throat nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't think you'd be interested."

She quirked a brow at him and bit back a smirk. "Let me guess, it involves a girl, right?" He didn't answer and she chuckled. "Of course it does. A cute country crooning girl I'm guessing. Probably a bit fiery, knowing you. Am I close?"

"Right on the money, actually," he said with a playful glare and a lopsided grin. "How do you do that?"

She shrugged and smiled proudly at him. "I just know you, that's all. You've got a weakness for feisty women. You probably know that already, though." She winked at him teasingly. "I promise I won't hold it against you."

He gave her a small smile and then met her eyes. "She reminded me a little of you, to be honest. That's what drew me in at first."

She stepped into his personal space and gave him an amused look. "That's sweet…in an oddly twisted way. But then again, we've always been a bit twisted, haven't we?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Eliot said playfully. "It keeps things interesting."

She laughed lightly and then stood up on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek. She then grabbed his hand and dragged him to the door. "Let's go, Spencer. There's a guitar out there calling my name."

* * *

The first shop they went to was a bust. The guitars had been cheap. Great for beginners but Claire was far from a beginner. The next store had more pianos and keyboards than guitars. But the third store…the third store was a treasure trove of beautiful guitars. Takemines, Gibsons, Taylors…any brand you preferred.

Claire had found the corner with all the Gibson guitars and Eliot held back a grin as she stared at them hungrily.

The salesman must have noticed to because he handed her a guitar pick and then said, "Try 'em out. Find your match. Clearly you want to."

She smiled bashfully and nodded. "That obvious?"

"I know a music addict when I see one," he told her with a chuckle. "Have fun."

"Thanks," she told him as he left.

She reverently pulled a guitar off the wall and gave it a look of awe he'd never seen on her face before.

"This is a Gibson Hummingbird with a Wine Red finish," she told Eliot without once looking away from the guitar. "They don't typically come in a Wine Red finish," she said as she sat down on a nearby stool. "It's gorgeous. This guitar is prolific. I mean, every celebrity musician and their cousin has one now but this guitar…this guitar is a rock and roll legend. And it was the first of it's kind when they introduced it in the 60s."

Eliot leaned against the counter across from her stool and watched her cradle the guitar gently. She was gushing. He'd never seen her gush.

"Sounds like you know an awful lot about that guitar," he told her.

"My grandfather had one. An original, from the first batch of them ever made. He would joke and say he was the one who really set the trend and Keith Richards just followed his lead," she said with a fond smile and chuckle. "I think I loved that guitar just as much as he did."

"Well," Eliot said. "You heard the guy, play it."

She bit her bottom lip before she hesitantly strummed and he could tell by the way she'd relaxed that they'd found the guitar. That one chord turned into another and then another and pretty soon she was playing a melody. He didn't recognize it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and then suddenly she was singing.

_"I'm just a girl with her guitar,_

_Trying to give you my whole heart._

_If there's anybody out there,_

_Listening to me,_

_All I have is a story and a dream._

_Here I am and that's all I can be._

_You know I forget to breathe sometimes,_

_And I'm so afraid to fall behind._

_Why do I let the pressure take over my mind,_

_When I know,_

_The truth is never wrong._

_I'm alright this is right where I belong."_

Eliot was so caught up in listening to her haunting voice that he didn't notice the crowd gathering until applause sounded from the dozen or so people in the tiny store. Claire bit her bottom lip and looked alarmed at the sounds before she ran a hand through her hair nervously and then stood up from the stool with a subtle bow.

She clutched the neck of the guitar tightly and approached Eliot with a contented smile. "This is the one."

He chuckled. "I couldn't tell," he said sarcastically. "Did you write that while I was gone?"

She nodded. "First thing I've written in years. You think it's any good?" She asked him. Anyone else would see complete and total confidence, but Eliot saw the underlying nerves.

"Did it make you feel something?" Eliot asked her curiously. She nodded wordlessly and he gave her an encouraging smile in response. "Then it was perfect."

She chuckled and shook her head at him. "You're biased."

"Maybe," he said as he reached out and teasingly tugged on a strand of her hair. "Doesn't mean I'm not right, though."

* * *

By the time they finished shopping and returned to the apartment Claire was in a hurry to get ready for dinner. It was casual, but according to Claire she had to straighten her hair. By now she knew he preferred her curls but in her mind straight hair was more attractive. She saved the curls for the two of them or when she knew she wouldn't run into anyone she knew. She applied the finishing touches with just enough time to arrive at Nate's on time. Eliot grabbed the bag of groceries out of his fridge and motioned for Claire to lead the way out of the apartment.

She quirked a brow at him. "You're cooking?"

"Who else do you think would be cooking? Hardison eats Hot Pockets off the floor, for crying out loud."

Claire laughed at his frustrated expression. "Shug, not everyone has the talent you do. Some of us endanger lives when using a toaster oven. It's not our fault."

He shook his head and rolled his eyes at her playfully. "You could cook if you really wanted to. You just don't want to."

"Nope, can't say I do. I don't have the domestic gene like you do, Spencer. I barely keep house, I don't cook so I don't have to do dishes, and I hate folding laundry."

"So, what you're saying is you're not a fifties house wife?" He asked her teasingly.

"Hell no."

"Damn, just when I thought this might work," he said with a smirk.

She punched his arm. It didn't hurt at all. And glared at him. "You did not just say that. Not even as a joke."

He laughed and grabbed her hand as she tried to punch him again. "Don't start something you can't finish, darlin'."

"Oh I'll finish it," she told him in a warning tone. "Just not when you're at a disadvantage," she said as she motioned to the bag of groceries in his other arm. "Watch your back, though, Spencer. I'll get back at you. You watch."

"Sure you will," He said with a chuckle. "Keep tellin' yourself that."

* * *

They arrived out side of McRory's not long after that. Eliot had the bag of groceries in one hand and held Claire's hand with the other. Claire pulled him to a stop as they reached the door that led into Nate's building. He turned and gave her a curious look.

"Maybe I shouldn't go," she said as she nervously bit her bottom lip.

"What?" He asked with a furrowed brow.

"They don't exactly trust me," she told him. "Not that I blame them, but if this is supposed to be a relaxing night together maybe it's best if it's just the five of you. I don't want to intrude on anything."

"Claire," Eliot said as he set the bag of groceries down by his feet and then pulled her to him. His arms went around her waist and hers went around his neck. "You're not intruding. Last time you saw them we were working. The stakes are higher when we're working and all the defenses are up. You know how that is. Tonight is not work. Tonight will be different. You'll see. And if all else fails you can avoid Hardison and Sophie and stick close to me or Parker or Nate. Trust me, I don't think Parker would mind. She seems to like you."

"Yep, he's right. I do."

Claire's brow furrowed at Eliot as Parker's voice appeared out of nowhere and Eliot sighed and rolled his eyes. He glanced up and found Parker repelling from Nate's bedroom window upside down. The blonde beamed at them as they both looked up at her.

"Hi, guys!"

"Hi, Parker," Eliot said in a resigned tone. "You're doing this again, huh?" He asked her.

She shrugged, which to Claire looked very strange while she was dangling upside down. "Nate has the rig, he doesn't use it so somebody should," she said as if it were obvious.

"This is a normal thing?" Claire asked with a bewildered expression.

Eliot smirked at her and then glanced at Parker quickly. "You get used to it."

Parker nodded. "That's how you know you're one of us." With that she flipped and then released the rig to land gracefully on the street with one cat-like motion.

"Right, I'll be sure to tell you when that day comes," Claire said with an amused chuckle. "Though I'm not sure I could ever get use to you appearing out of no where."

"Sure you could," Parker told her brightly. "Every one else has. Well, most of them still jump a little, but they totally expect it at this point."

"Is anyone else here?" Eliot asked her.

"Nate is," Parker told him. "But that's it. Hardison should be here soon and I haven't heard from Sophie."

Eliot nodded and then picked up the groceries again. He opened the door for both Claire and Parker and motioned them inside. "Let's get this dinner started."

"And over with," Claire muttered nervously as she followed Parker into the building.

"Hey," Eliot said to catch her attention. She turned to face him with a sigh. He smiled encouragingly at her. "You'll be fine. Relax."

She snorted and smirked. "Relax? Yeah, sure, I'll just relax while I'm in the same room as a former insurance cop, a thief, a grifter, and a hacker. That's likely. Thieves shouldn't relax around other thieves. My mama taught me that."

He grinned and quirked a brow at her as they entered the building and shut the door behind them. "Your mama taught you some interesting things."

She chuckled darkly and patted his cheek. "You don't know the half of it."


	20. Part Two, Chapter Eleven: Family Dinner

PART TWO: Mosaic Broken Hearts

by angellwings

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Family Dinner

* * *

Well, this dinner was interesting so far. It started with suspicious looks tossed at Claire and then unsure ones tossed at each other once Hardison and Sophie arrived. Eliot grumbled, rolled his eyes, and then stomped off to make dinner in the kitchen. He'd only come back once to bring Claire a glass of wine. He'd given her a pointed look and then glanced over at Sophie. He hoped she'd get the message and play nice.

She sighed and gave him a resigned nod. It was important to him that she make an effort, even if he was reluctant to admit these people were his family. He needed Claire to be able to be in the same room as them. Despite Sophie making her very uncomfortable. He knew Sophie reminded Claire a little too much of her mother. Not that he'd ever met Claire's mother. He doubted he ever would. She cleared her throat and tried to think of something to say. Eliot did his best to listen while he cooked.

"Eliot tells me you just pulled off a con on a whole tent full of businessmen all by yourself," Claire said with a small grin. "Pretty impressive."

Sophie shrugged and then waved a hand at her dismissively. "It was nothing. Just doing my job."

"It didn't sound like nothing," Claire told her. "You pulled the second meeting stunt in under five minutes. That's amazing."

"How did he know about that?" Sophie asked.

"Hardison," Claire responded.

"Of course," Sophie said with a chuckle. "Tara says she's working with you on a job?"

Claire nodded. "Yes. When I leave Boston I'm headed straight for a job. Tara's helping me with intel. Should be a fun one. It's a good way to stretch out after…" Claire let her sentence drift away and then shook her head at herself. "Well, you know."

"If you need any help let us know. We'd be happy to lend a hand."

"Will you stop volunteering me for things?" Hardison asked as he sat down in the armchair to the right of them. "She doesn't want or need my help. Right, Arm Candy?"

"I've worked most of my life without a hacker or any sort of technological assistance. I'll be fine, thanks," Claire said with a glare.

"That's what I thought," Hardison said with a smirk.

"You guys gonna eat this food I've cooked or what?" Eliot asked with a huff.

Parker and Hardison were already up and getting plates by the time Claire was getting her food. Eliot handed Sophie a plate and then Claire. Claire listened with a smirk as Eliot complimented Sophie on the success of her second meeting con and then Sophie explained how she identified the best tactic for her mark. Eliot wondered if Claire knew the signs of a man who was likely to forget a woman's name the next morning as well as Sophie did. She was nodding and grinning like she completely understood. Nate came down the stairs and Sophie cornered him not long after for a private chat. Eliot noticed Claire seemed very interested in the conversation and was trying watch and listen to it discretely.

She smirked to herself and glanced around the table. He wondered what she'd gleaned from that interaction. Obviously she'd learned something.

"What are you learning from that, that I'm not?" Eliot asked her as he leaned over and whispered his question in her ear. He tossed a pointed glance to where Sophie and Nate were standing and then found her eyes again with a curious grin.

"You think I'm going to spill valuable information I could use to my advantage later? What do you take me for? An amateur?" Claire asked with a flirtatious grin. "No go, Shug. I'm you'll figure it out eventually."

Hardison was suddenly standing up and running some sort of device across the light fixture above the table. Eliot gave Hardison a concerned look the longer he looked at the light fixture. Something was very wrong.

"Better call the exterminator 'cause you got bugs," Hardison said as he pulled a small device from the inside of the light fixture and held it up for the room to see.

"I thought you swept the place?" Sophie asked as she and Nate joined the group at the table.

"I did but it's a passive-burst transmitter. It's the kind I use. Whoever this is, they got game," Hardison answered as he studied the small device in his hand.

"You're gonna have to sweep the whole place again," Nate told him.

"I'm on it," Hardison told him as he started working on something on his phone.

"Somebody's taking a run at us," Nate said as he glanced around the table.

"Sterling," Eliot growled.

Claire gave him an intrigued look that gave him the feeling she'd be asking him who Sterling was later.

"Could be Starke," Sophie suggested as she passed the bug to Parker.

"Or maybe Damien Moreau had friends," Parker added with a small apologetic glance in Claire's direction. As if she were apologize for even mentioning his name.

Claire scoffed and gave Parker a dry smile. "Maybe? You're adorable. He didn't have friends. He had associates and a good chunk of them probably went out of business when Moreau was arrested and even more probably lost legal protection when Ribera was ousted from office. So, yeah, I'd say you might have a lot of highly resourceful people pissed at you."

"Or maybe it's my father or the Irish Mob or any, what, 50 odd millionaires that we've tricked, imprisoned, or generally ticked off," Nate said as he reminded them just how large their operation had become.

"Let's face it," Eliot said as he looked around the table. "We've pulled off some pretty big jobs. That puts us at the top of everybody's lists."

Parker nodded in agreement. "When you're that high up…"

"It's a long way down," Nate finished as he looked around at his team with a worried glance.

Awkward silence stretched out between them for a long moment.

"Well, this was an eventful dinner," Claire said with a small grin as she tried to break up the tension. "Thanks for inviting me. It's not every day a bug is discovered in a den of thieves. So glad I could be a part of this monumental day."

Eliot gave her an amused lopsided smirk. Parker chuckled and Nate's expression remained serious but Eliot did notice the corner of his mouth tug upward just slightly. After that, the group brought their attention back to dinner and began to eat in silence. Once dinner was over Hardison immediatly reported to his computer saying something about a scan that should be finished by now. Parker watched him go with a disappointed face. Eliot, of course, knew something was happening with Parker and Hardison. He would have to have been blind not to see it playing out in front of him for the last 3 years. Something changed between them before San Lorenzo. He wasn't sure what, but he could see a difference in their attitudes toward each other. After today, he got the impression that Parker was wanting to talk to Hardison about what had happened in that cavern. He wouldn't blame her and he knew Hardison would know exactly what to say to her. Somehow he always did. Eliot sometimes envied his ability to communicate with Parker. But then he remembered how occasionally Parker asked him awkward questions that made him want to run and hide and the envy quickly faded.

Leave it to Claire to notice Parker's expression and spring into action. Sophie and Nate got up from the table to check on Hardison and find out exactly what he was up to. The minute they left Claire stood up and walked around the table to take Hardison's empty seat next to Parker.

"Eliot told me you brought a husband's goodbye greeting back to his wife for this job," Claire said softly with a warm smile.

"I would have preferred to bring him back to her instead," Parker told her with a nod. It was always hard to read Parker's emotions so it said something about her emotional state right now that Eliot could see that same sadness from the cavern peeking through.

Claire gave Parker a sympathetic look before she continued. "I would feel the same way, but sometimes things are just impossible." She watched Parker's face thoughtfully and he could tell she was trying to choose her words very carefully. "We hate to admit it but that's the way it goes. In those situations, what's important is that you do the most you can possibly do and you, Parker, did that. You have nothing to feel bad about or be ashamed of. You did exactly the thing any decent person would do. You stood up for a man who couldn't stand up for himself. Just…keep telling yourself that, okay? Any time you doubt it, repeat that to yourself."

"Okay," Parker said with a ghost of a smile.

"Okay?" Claire asked.

Parker nodded. "Okay, I'll remember that. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Claire said with a wink. "Anytime."

They finished dinner while Hardison continued his sweep. He didn't find any more than the one, which was surprising. Parker and Hardison then did the dishes and Eliot snuck he and Claire out of Nate's apartment. He was ready to have her all to himself again. She'd genuinely made an effort with the people he reluctantly called his family. It impressed the hell out of him and left him feeling something he hadn't felt in years. Something he couldn't name. He knew he loved her, he'd told her that much and she felt the same. But this feeling was something bigger and he could feel it taking root.

"No goodbyes?" Claire asked with a grin as they made it down the stairs and out the door.

"If we said goodbye we'd be here for another hour," Eliot told her with a light chuckle. He took her hand as they walked down the steps and out onto the sidewalk. "Thank you, by the way."

"For what?" Claire asked with a furrowed brow.

"For actually making an effort," he told her. "I saw you talking to Sophie and Parker. I just wanted you to know that I appreciate it."

"Parker's sweet. I didn't mind that. I will, however, accept your thanks for Sophie. She makes me want to squirm and hide. Her eyes see everything. I don't like it," Claire told him. He'd heard this all before.

"You were observing her pretty closely tonight too," Eliot pointed out with a smirk.

"I was and I learned something very interesting," she told him with a secretive smile. He opened his mouth to ask her another question but she held up a hand to stop him and shook her head. "Already told you I'm not spilling. I'm saving this knowledge for a rainy day. You'll figure out soon enough anyway, I'm sure."

He pulled her into his side and released her hand to wrap an arm around her waist. She leaned into him very lightly as they walked and then slipped her hand into the back pocket of his jeans. A part of him felt like a high school kid on a date with his sweetheart. There was a strange giddy feeling bubbling up in his chest that he'd forgotten he could feel to begin with.

* * *

The next day, they decided they wanted to stay in. Between Nantucket and Eliot's job and the family dinner the night before they felt they needed a little break. Nate had promised to give the team the rest of the promised time off, which left them with another week to enjoy together. After that day, they'd stayed in again and then again after that.

The best way to kick off the second week, in Eliot's mind, was to lounge around with Claire. Having her basically live with him for the last few weeks was an enlightening experience. Their housekeeping abilities were complete opposites because Eliot kept his place neat and Claire…didn't. But she'd been making an effort because she knew he how he felt about it. He, however, hadn't been in the apartment with her long enough to adjust to her.

So far today, he had learned one very important thing about having Claire around the apartment. He loved listening to her play guitar. She'd been strumming and mumbling lyrics and jotting things down in her song writing journal all morning while he sat in the living room and read one of his favorite books. She played lightyears better than himself. She was well trained on the guitar and you could hear it in every chord she played.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and found her leaning over her guitar to scribble something in her notebook with a curtain of red frizzy waves falling around her. The waves were something else he really liked. She kept them as long as it was just the two of them and somehow that made him like them even more. This morning, she'd forgone the make up and had picked her one and only pair of relaxed fit jeans. She wore a baggy sweatshirt she'd borrowed from his closet and then a pair of his socks on her feet.

This extremely casual version of Claire had quickly become his favorite. He enjoyed seeing her in revealing cocktail dresses, bathing suits, and lingerie—don't think he didn't—but outfits like the one she wore now indicated a level of intimacy and trust they hadn't reached the last time around.

He pulled his focus back to the book in his hands as Claire stopped strumming. He was reclined on his couch with his legs stretched out in front of him and the book held up in front of his face. He'd reread this book several times over and he couldn't think of one instance where it hadn't kept his attention. Until now.

Her heard soft footfalls walking across his hardwood floors and then suddenly Claire was crawling over him to lay down in between his side and the back of the couch. He grinned at the page of his book he wasn't reading as she slipped her head and shoulders under his arm and rested her head on his chest. She snuggled into him and sighed contentedly.

"Bored?" He asked her as he continued to pretend to read.

"Stuck on a song," she answered. "You can't force these things or you end up with an empty lyric. What are you so engrossed in? Or pretending to be engrossed in."

He grinned at her and then let his gaze meet hers. "You knew, huh?"

"Eliot, I've never not known when you're staring at me," she told him with a smirk. "It feels like your eyes burn through me when you stare. It's intense. I like it."

He placed the bookmark in his book and then set it down on his coffee table. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and then reached across to grab her hand with the other. She turned on her side and tangled her legs with his to find a more comfortable position and then placed a quick affectionate kiss along his jaw.

"So, are we staying in tomorrow too?" She asked him.

"Do you want to?" He asked her curiously.

"I feel like a bum staying here all day, but at the same time…I'd rather be here being a bum with you than be out there having to share you with other people," she told him with a bright smile.

"Hey, I have three more days before I'm stuck with Parker and Hardison and a mark being punched and kicked. I think my job entails enough social interaction. I've earned the right to stay in for a few days," Eliot told her. "Especially if I'm staying in with you."

"Good," Claire told him. "We can hide out from the real world together. For a little while anyway."

He turned his head and placed a lingering kiss on her lips. One kiss became two and then three and suddenly there was no stopping where this was going. He released her hand and rested that hand on her hip before sliding it under the sweatshirt to caress the skin he found there. Her hands moved from where they had been cradled against his chest to his shoulders and then the back of his neck. She lightly ran her thumbs across his throat and jawline. He used the arm he had around her to hold her tightly and shift their positions on the couch until she was resting on top of him. He slowed the pace of the kisses until they were lazy and long. They were in no rush and they had no intention of leaving. He wanted to drag this out and enjoy it. He wanted to take his time.

Over the last four days he'd started to realize what that "bigger" feeling he'd felt that night at dinner was. It wasn't so much a feeling as a desire. A desire to keep her in his life for as long as he possibly could.

A desire to play for keeps.

He hadn't felt that particular desire since Aimee, but even when comparing it to what he felt for Aimee…it was still different. He was older and wiser. More acquainted with how unfair the world could be and more familiar with how difficult it was to be the man he knew himself to be and maintain a relationship. He knew the dangers and the risks and he knew all the ways this could end badly.

He turned all the negative outcomes over in his head so many times over the last few weeks and he'd come to one conclusion…

He didn't give a damn.

He just wanted her. He wanted to make a life that had her in it, no matter what that life was. If there was trouble he wanted to face it with her. He didn't want to hide her away and keep her safe at the cost of his own pain. No, he selfishly wanted her with him no matter what the price might be. That was something he never felt with Aimee. Or anyone else.

Only Claire. No one else but Claire.

Suddenly her phone blared from where it sat on his kitchen counter. He started to pull away to let her answer it but she held him tighter and shook her head as she pulled back to look at him. "I'll call them back," she said in a rush before she went back to kissing him. He smiled against her lips before they picked back up where they left off and he helped her peel off the sweatshirt. The phone stopped ringing as he tossed the shirt aside. He sat up to let her help him with his t-shirt when her phone started to ring again.

She rolled her eyes and groaned. "Don't people know how to leave voicemails anymore?"

He chuckled at her. "You sure you don't wanna answer that?"

"Whatever it is," she said as she peeled his shirt off of him. "It can wait." The shrill ringing stopped and she grinned before her lips found his once again. His hands gripped her hips and hers explored his bare chest as their kisses became more urgent. He was about to suggest they change locations when suddenly his phone rang from his jeans pocket.

"Seriously?" Claire asked in frustration as she sat up and straddled his waist.

"I think someone's trying to get in touch with you," Eliot said with a sigh. "And I don't think it's going to stop until one of us answers."

"Whoever it is has the absolute worst timing," Claire said as Eliot pulled his phone out of his pocket and answered it reluctantly.

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "Hey, Tara. Yeah, she's right here." He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "No, we weren't doing anything," Eliot said sarcastically. "What would make you think that? Yeah, you're a riot." He pulled the phone away from his ear and held it out to her. "It's Tara, she says it's urgent."

"It better be," Claire grumbled as she peeled herself off of Eliot and took the phone out of his hands. She stood and relocated to the arm chair as she pressed the phone to her ear. "What?" She asked irritably.

Eliot grinned at her. At least she seemed as eager to finish what they started as he was.

Claire winced and then rubbed a hand across her forehead as she listened to Tara on the phone. "You have got to be kidding me. How do you know this?" She listened for a few more moments and then cursed under her breath. "Okay, so we've got to move up our time table then," she told him. He could hear the disappointment in her voice. "No, Tara, we have to. If we don't these guys are going to kill this woman. The only way to protect her and take him down is if we start this job like now." There was a pause and she gave Eliot an apologetic look. He sighed and reached for his shirt that she'd tossed on the floor. Looks like their two weeks was ending a little early. "Yeah, okay, get the tickets with the IDs we've built. We leave in two hours. Yeah, thanks for the heads up. Okay, bye."

She hung up his phone and handed it to him.

"I'm sorry, Eliot," she finally said with a frustrated sigh. "I have to go. The window of opportunity on this mark just narrowed considerably."

"Hey," he said with a half hearted shrug. "If you've gotta go then you've gotta go. Nobody knows that better than me. I've left you for two jobs so far," he told her as he put his shirt back on and then pulled her up from the armchair. "It's my turn to be left behind," he told her with a playful grin as he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her against him.

"I should pack," she told him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Tara's picking me up in an hour."

"Okay," he said as he hesitantly released her. She started to walk away but then turned back around and placed one hand on either side of his face.

She ran her thumbs over his cheeks and smiled affectionately at him. "You know I'm coming back, right? This is a long con, but I'll be back when it's over. You know that, don't you?"

"I was hoping," he told her honestly.

She nodded and smiled warmly at him for a lingering moment. She placed a quick kiss to his lips and then scooped his sweatshirt off the floor on her way to the guest room. He watched her through the doorway as she started to pack and he felt his worry already building up in his chest. She'd be okay, he told himself. She'd be back before he knew it. Besides, he had his own jobs to keep him distracted. The time would fly.

Or that's what he'd make himself believe. For now.


	21. Part Two, Chapter Twelve: Tender Care

PART TWO: Mosaic Broken Hearts

by angellwings

* * *

Chapter Twelve: Tender Care

* * *

Her go bag was packed with essentials. She'd said something about stopping by her storage unit on the way to the airport. He assumed she had more suitable things for this job in storage.

"Okay, I guess I'm packed," she said as she glanced through her purse one more time to make sure she had everything she needed. She pulled a key out of her pocket and held it out to him.

He shook his head and then reached out to close her hand around the key. "Keep it. You'll need it when you get back into town."

She beamed at him. "Really?"

He nodded. "It's yours."

She launched herself at him and gave him a tight hug. "Thank you." She placed a lingering kiss on his lips and pulled away. She pressed her forehead to his and smiled warmly at him. "I'll be back in a few weeks."

"Be careful," he told her as he met her eyes and gave her a stern glance. "I don't know much about this job but from the sound of that phone call this guy sounds serious."

She nodded. "I'll do my best. Try not to get yourself killed while I'm gone with that team of yours, okay?"

He smirked at her and brushed her hair out of her face before he kissed her again. "Okay."

When he brushed the hair out of her face he must have brought her attention to the fact that it was still frizzy and curly. She immediately pulled out a hair tie and secured into a ponytail. "I really wish I had time to do my hair."

Eliot rolled his eyes at her and grinned. "It looks good to me."

She chuckled and smiled at him. "Yes, I'm well aware of how you like my hair, Spencer."

There was a knock at the door and Eliot opened it immediately. He gave Tara an expectant look and nodded at her in greeting.

"Spencer," Tara said quickly before she focused on Claire. "Ready?"

"Yes," she answered. "All packed."

She placed a kiss on Eliot's lips before stepping out into the hallway with Tara.

"Call me when they job's over, alright?" Eliot asked her. Claire nodded and then Eliot turned to Tara. "Call us if you guys need any back up."

Tara nodded. "They will."

Eliot quirked a brow at that. "They? You're not going?"

"Oh no, I can't go. The mark knows me. Shelley's got Claire's back though,"

"Shelley?" Eliot asked Claire with a slight glare. "I didn't know he was in on this."

"Yeah, he didn't want you to kill him if anything happened to go wrong," Claire told him with a sheepish grin.

"I always knew he was a smart guy," Eliot said with a smirk. "Tell him I said hi would you?"

"I'll let Tara handle that since she's the one who told you he was a part of this," Claire said with a chuckle.

"Good, that'll be fun for me," Tara told her with a crooked smile. "I love messing with that guy's head."

"Me too," Eliot told her with a nod.

Claire rolled her eyes at the two of them. "You're both jerks."

"I mean we are criminals," Tara told her. "I think we're supposed to be jerks. I'll be waiting in the car downstairs." She glanced at her watch and tapped it. "We still have to go by the storage unit and get to the airport."

Claire nodded. "Alright, I'm coming. Right behind you."

"Shelley playing your muscle?" Eliot asked her knowingly.

"He's my alias's personal security," she told him with a nod. "He's been keeping an eye on the mark for the last week or so too."

"I was serious earlier," Eliot told her. "If you need back up, call."

She nodded. "Deal," she said before she leaned in and sealed it with a kiss. "No offense, though, let's hope I won't need to. See you later, Spencer," Claire told him with a wink before she turned on her heel and walked down the hall toward the stairs. She waved and grinned at him before she headed down the stairs and out of the building. He went back inside and watched out the window to make sure she got in the car and drove away safely.

He glanced around his now empty apartment and realized how much he was going to miss her. He'd gotten too used to having her around. His eyes landed on her guitar that she'd left on the stand in the corner and grinned. She'd be back for that for sure. He'd see her again in a few weeks.

For now, though, he was bored. No use staying around here. He grabbed his keys and decided to head over to Nate's. Someone was probably there researching something. They only had a few days before they took on another case. He'd find something keep himself busy over there.

* * *

The weeks passed, as did the cases, and still no word from Claire. Luckily his team kept him much too busy to dwell on it too much. Occasionally Tara would pass him a brief message to let him know things were going according to plan. That was usually enough to appease him. He knew if things went bad Claire or Shelley would reach out to him. Tara couldn't tell him much except that Claire and Shelley were laying the ground work for whatever con they were pulling. Their mark was highly paranoid so they couldn't risk communicating to Tara often.

Three weeks later they started a job that seemed like all their others. Only their mark wasn't a villain and he had a kid that Eliot took an inexplicable liking too. A pessimistic and bitter bundle of attitude who would never admit how alone she felt. The girl almost immediately got a piece of his heart. He found himself facing down Russian mob without even pausing to think it through. He'd barreled in and decided, to hell with it, this girl needed him and she was scared. He wouldn't wait until it was convenient to help her.

He'd saved the girl, of course, but he'd barely walked away from it. The Russians had a hitter working for them that was actually competent.

"You sure you don't want us to take you to a hospital?" Hardison asked him as they sat in a booth at McRory's.

"No, man, no hospitals," Eliot said with a scowl as he cradled his arm to his chest.

"We thought you'd say that," Parker said with a smirk. "So, Hardison made a call."

He furrowed his brow at them as Hardison nodded to the door. His gaze followed Hardison's nod and standing just inside the door was Claire. With frizzy red waves, jeans, and one of his sweatshirts. Almost the exact outfit he'd last seen her in. She slowly approached the table and for a moment he'd wondered if he was hallucinating.

She smiled warmly at him and shook her head as she stopped beside of the table. "I leave you alone for a few weeks and you let some guy pound you into the ground. If you wanted my attention, shug, you could have just called."

He stared at her for a long moment before he gave her a lop sided grin and stood from the table. "What are you doing here?"

"Hardison called Tara and Tara called me," she said with a smile as she gingerly caressed the cut on his face. "I thought you could use a nurse," she told him with a wink.

"I don't think you're registered," Hardison told her with a teasing grin.

Claire ignored him and turned to grin at Eliot as she motioned to the door. "Come on, Rocky Balboa, let's get you home. Huh?"

He said nothing but smiled affectionately at her and nodded. He slipped his good arm around her waist as they left the bar and headed back to his place.

"You shouldn't have come back for this," Eliot told her as they walked. "Your job's not over yet."

"I did have to come back," she told him as she leaned up and placed a kiss on his cheek. "They told me you took a pretty bad beating trying to help that kid and I kept imagining the worst. I couldn't really focus on the con after that."

"You could blow your cover with this," he warned her.

"We covered our tracks pretty well," she told him. "And Shelley's still there keeping an eye on things. He'll let me know if things start to go pear shaped. It's fine, Eliot. I needed to come back here for this. For you."

He leaned a little more weight on her than he normally would have but he was sore and a little weak and tired. Very tired. Claire noticed but she quickly shifted to support him and wrapped an arm around his waist as well.

"You really took a beating for this kid," she said softly as they reached his street. "She must have gotten under your skin pretty deep."

"She needed somebody," he told her. "She needed a friend."

"You know, you see yourself as such a bad guy," Claire said thoughtfully. "But you care more about people and honor than any man I've ever met. You really don't see how fuckin' good you actually are. You've done bad things in the past, yes, but that's not who you are any more. There aren't many men that I've known in my life that would go through all of this for their family let alone a little girl who needed a friend."

"It's atonement," he told her as he dismissed her praise. "That's all it is."

She shook her head at him as they reached his building and headed for the elevator. Normally, he took the stairs but he felt like he had a decent excuse to slack off today.

"That's not all it is, Eliot," Claire told him as she smiled at him fondly. "You know that's not all it is. You're grumpy and irritable and have a short temper sometimes but you care. You care a lot more than you want anyone to know. Whether you want me to know or not, Spencer, I see it. So does your crew."

He leaned against one of the elevator walls to give Claire a break from being his support but she stayed at his side with her arm around him anyway. He didn't really know what to say to that so he didn't say anything. He let Claire's observation hang in the air between them. The silence was comfortable and thoughtful and they maintained it until the reached the inside of his apartment and he started to collapse on his couch. It was the closest thing to crash on.

Claire placed a gentle hand on his chest to stop him and then pointed to his bedroom. "Uh uh, no way, shug. It's just a few more steps to your bed. You should lay down."

He sighed and headed toward his room. He kicked off his shoes and then laid down on the bed in his jeans, hoodie, and jacket. Claire sighed and smiled at him sympathetically.

"I know you're tired, you really look it," she said honestly. "But you can't rest in all those layers."

He really didn't want to peel off the jacket. His arm hurt enough getting it on in the first place. Claire must have read this on his face because she sat down on the edge of the bed and patted his leg.

"Sit up. I'll help you," she told him. "You'll feel better once you have it off. Trust me."

He knew she was right so he dutifully sat up and let her carefully pull the sleeves of the leather jacket down his shoulders and arms and then set it on the armchair in the corner. She came back and lifted them hem of his hoodie and carefully peeled it off of him, making sure not to jostle his arm or chest too much. Finally, he was left in his jeans and a t-shirt. And, he noted, Claire was definitely right. He felt much better. The jacket and the hoodie had been tight on his sore arm and the layers had felt heavy on his bruised ribs. He settled in on the right side of the bed. Claire kicked off her shoes, took off her own sweatshirt, revealing a thin tank top underneath. She climbed into bed next to him and carefully snuggled up to his left, uninjured, side.

He turned his head to look at her and she smiled warmly at him. She reached up and softly ran a hand over the gash on the side of his face, the cut on the bridge of his nose, and the scrapes on the left side of his face. Her eyes gaze was worried and simultaneously relieved. She took his bandaged hand and brought it to her lips. She kissed the back of his fingers and then extended up to kiss the left side of his jaw that was scraped raw. He could feel love and concern and respect radiating off of her.

"God, I love you," she told him as she placed a hand on the side of his face and ran her thumb across his cheek. "I love you almost too much, you ridiculous self sacrificing honorable idiot."

Her words were hostile but her tone was soft and affectionate. He chuckled at her and turned his head to place a tender kiss on her lips.

"Thanks. Love you too," he said as he pulled away and then pressed a kiss to her forehead. It had been a very long time since he'd had someone genuinely try to take care of him. Or someone who made such an effort to appreciate what he did. It only reinforced how much he knew he loved her.

She settled against his chest and he rested his chin on the top of her head. The sound of her breathing, rhythmic and deep, as she laid next to him lulled him off to sleep. He'd initially been worried about her blowing her cover to come see him, but now he was very glad she'd risked it. He needed her then more than he realized.


	22. Part Two, Chapter Thirteen: Reunion

PART TWO: Mosaic Broken Hearts

by angellwings

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: Reunion

* * *

The next morning, he woke to find Claire's side of the bed empty. His brain immediately thought of all the things that could've happened to her and then thought of the possibility that maybe he did dream it and she'd never been there to begin with. But before he could get up and search the apartment for her she appeared in his doorway. She'd stripped her jeans at some point and was now just in her tank top and her underwear. Not that he minded. She had great legs. She placed a glass of water and two painkillers on his nightstand.

"I'm almost certain you'll be needing those," she told him with a wink. "And since I can't cook, I thought I would go and pick up breakfast. Any requests?"

"Yeah," He said in a hoarse and sleepy voice. "Get back into bed."

She chuckled at him and then leaned down to softly kiss his lips. "If I do that then we'll never have breakfast."

"We never do anyway," he said with a wicked grin. "Why break tradition?"

"Because you have bruised ribs, a sprained wrist, and what looks to be a broken nose. I think you'd be in more pain than you could stand if we stuck with our typical morning routine," Claire said as she smiled at him affectionately.

"Might be worth it," he said with a smirk.

"Let yourself heal, loverboy, and then we'll talk," she said with a laugh as she pointed to the painkillers again. "Take those. I'm gonna get dressed and go get carry out at the diner down the street. What would you like?"

"Western Omelet," he said with a resigned sigh. It was clear he couldn't talk her out of this.

"Don't sound so glum, shug," she told him with a grin. "I'll be back in half an hour tops."

"You better be," he told her as he watched her slip on her jeans and the sweatshirt from the day before.

He took the pills she left and then ended up falling asleep again not long after that. When he woke up, he heard footfalls in his kitchen and the soft clanging of dishes and silverware. He pulled himself from the bed, with only slight discomfort. Though at this point in his life he wasn't sure if the discomfort was slight or if he'd just built up an extremely high tolerance to it.

"Hey," Claire said softly as she spotted him leaving his bedroom. "Feeling any better?"

He smirked at her and nodded. "Usually doesn't take me long."

"Yes, I remember," she told him with a chuckle. "I used to wonder if you had super human powers."

He approached his tall square pub table to find that she had transferred the food from take out containers to plates and had set the table.

"You didn't have to do this, you know," he told her as he sat down. "I'm a little bruised, but I can still cook."

She rolled her eyes and came to stand beside his chair. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind and placed a gentle kiss to his temple. "I know, but I wanted to. You can cook for me next time."

He noticed she said "next time" and not tomorrow. "Leaving so soon?" He asked with a sigh.

She brought her hands to his shoulders and rubbed them soothingly. "Early tomorrow morning. There's just a couple more week's needed on the job and then we'll have this guy right where we need him. The quicker I get back there, the quicker it's finished and…"

"The quicker you can make it back to Boston."

"Exactly," she said as she walked around the table and sat down next to him.

"What is that?" He asked as he motioned to her breakfast.

"Fruit," she said with a chuckle. "And yogurt."

"That's not breakfast," he told her.

"It's not an omelet," she told him. "But it's healthy, and light on the calories."

"Light on calories?" Eliot asked her with a furrowed brow. "Am I missing something?"

"No," she told him with a smirk. "I'm just watching what I eat, Spencer."

"Since when?" He asked.

"I've always been careful about what I eat, Eliot. I took some time off from that after Moreau but I'm working again so I've been getting back to it since I left. Gotta maintain this figure somehow," she said.

"Ain't nothing wrong with your figure," Eliot grumbled as he picked up his fork from the table.

Claire grinned at him and nodded. "Good to know you think so." She nudged his shoulder playfully. "I think what you're really upset about is that you might have to change what you cook for me." She winked at him before she continued. "But I will always make an exception for a meal prepared by Eliot Spencer."

He turned a reluctant lop-sided grin on her and then reached over to where the seat of her chair met the legs. He slid her chair until it was directly next to his. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. "That's all I needed to know."

"You and food," she said with a laugh as she reached for her yogurt and bowl of fruit. "It's always so personal."

He put his left arm around the back of her chair while he used his right, bandaged, hand to eat. They ate in silence for a moment. He watched her as she speared slice of melon after slice of melon on her fork. He would never understand why people denied themselves certain foods for calories sake. It was really all about moderation and exercise. But then he'd never known Claire to exercise so he supposed the alternative was to change what she ate.

"You know," she started as she broke the silence. "You've only let me do this once before," she said softly as she met his eyes. "This whole take care of you after a job thing. And last time you were at a very particular low point."

"I remember," he said simply. "That was the night every thing with Moreau fell apart."

She nodded and angled herself toward him in her chair. She reached a hand up and tenderly caressed the side of his face and then ran her hand through his hair. Her touch was so soft and light and comforting that it kept him from spiraling too far down that particular trail of memories.

He'd come to her after doing what he knew to be the worst thing he'd ever done in his entire career—no, lifetime. Successful but beaten and hopeless and lost. That one job had changed everything. He'd gone from hitter to retrieval specialist as soon as that job had finished. He couldn't really be a hitter anymore after that and the first person he'd thought of had been Claire. He hadn't felt for her then what he felt for her now, or he hadn't thought he did, but she was a kindred spirit. She was a person of honor in a den of low lives. She didn't deserve to end up as broken as he was in that moment. He knew she was the only person in Moreau's crew who cared about him more than the job and he knew he wanted to save her if he could. He'd showed up at her door bruised and bloodied, in blood that wasn't his own, and she'd taken care of him with no hesitation. He'd expressed everything he was thinking and feeling and she'd listened patiently and they'd made plans in low urgent whispers with loud music playing all around them. They'd both been keenly aware of Moreau's tendency to bug his own people's rooms. They thought that would allow them to keep it a secret. They were very wrong.

"The night we made our plan to leave," she said in a voice just above a whisper. Her hand stayed on the back of his neck and she caressed his hairline as she continued. "God, I wanted to go with you so badly. Please don't think I didn't. You said something when you found me with Moreau a few weeks back about thinking I'd ditched you and I just want to make sure that you know for sure—I didn't ditch you. I wanted to leave Moreau behind and run away with you more than anything I'd ever wanted before, but I would never have been able to live with myself if that choice had ended your life. I couldn't risk that. Because, Spencer, I have been in love with you for far longer than you've been in love with me. I can promise you that."

He didn't know where this had come from or why she felt the need to admit this to him but he swallowed thickly and nodded as he moved his arm from the back of the chair to wrap it around her and pull her closer. "When you didn't show, I should have gone after you," he told her. "But I was so used to broken promises and people serving their own self interest that I just assumed—I should have come back for you."

She shook her head before she kissed his lips slowly and intrusively. She pulled away and then gave him a watery smile. "I'm glad you didn't. If you had things would have ended very badly. You know that. It's why I never tried to reach out to you. I could have but I chose not to. You were away from Moreau and I wanted you to stay away. When you showed up out of the blue I was both relieved and terrified. Moreau had been waiting for the perfect moment to prove how much power he had over the both of us. I knew whatever happened when you walked in to that party would be ugly. I never once imagined I'd end up here, with you, though. I wanted it but I refused to let myself think it would happen."

"Well, it's happened, darlin'," he told her as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. "You better get used to it."

"Believe me, that's not a difficult adjustment to make," she said with a grin as she brushed her nose against his and then kissed his lips again. "In fact, I think I'm getting a little too used to this set up we've got going here. I don't trust things when I'm this happy."

He laughed lightly and nodded in agreement. "I know the feeling."

She leaned back and smiled warmly at him for a long moment before she pointed to his plate. "Eat. For once we are actually going to get through breakfast while it's still warm."

He chuckled at her as he picked up his fork again. "I was eating, you're the one that went and got all emotional on me."

"I couldn't help it," she told him. "You were giving me that look."

"What look?" He asked curiously.

"The look that says you're wondering what I'm thinking or what I'm feeling and yet in complete shock that I'm actually here to begin with. That look. You don't realize it but you give me that look a lot," she told him as she speared a piece of cantaloupe on her fork. "So, this time, I thought I'd tell you exactly what was going on in my head."

She brought the fruit to her mouth and chewed silently. He leaned toward her and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Thank you," he told her with a small genuine smile. "I needed to hear that."

"Which part?" She asked.

"All of it," he told her. "Every word."

They finished breakfast and then moved to the couch. They reclined on his couch and Claire laid against his uninjured left side as Eliot flipped through channels on his television.

"When did I get cable?" He asked in confusion.

"While you were on that last job," Claire told him with a chuckle. "I made a call. I was bored."

"There's other things to do besides watch TV, you know," he told her with a stern glance.

"Yes, but nothing is quite so entertaining as Growing Pains reruns," she told him with a playful laugh. "That Mike Seaver sure gets himself into a lot of trouble."

"Mike who?" Eliot asked.

"Good lord, I knew you didn't watch TV but how have you never heard of Growing Pains?"

"Because I left home when I was 18 to defend my country, that's how," he said as he poked her side teasingly.

"Yeah, yeah, Captain America, I get it already," she said with a chuckle.

"You sure you don't want to tell me about this job you're working on?" He asked her.

"Can't," she told him. "Can't risk it. I'll tell you all about it afterward, though. Promise. Wait," she said as she breezed passed a show that caught her eye. "Go back! That was I Dream of Jeanie!"

He quirked a brow at her and then rolled his eyes. "You gotta be kidding me. We're not watching that."

"Aww, but Captain Nelson's so cute!"

"I don't think so," he said with a smirk as he continued flipping channels. He spotted something with two muscle cars racing and stopped. "Much better."

She scrunched her nose up in disgust and tried to reach across him for the remote. He held it further away from her with his bandaged hand. He knew she wouldn't push too hard for it out of fear of hurting his bruised right side.

He waited until she leaned just far enough that he could make his move and then swiftly leaned forward to capture her lips with his. Her hand that had been straining to reach the remote went slack and fell to rest on his chest. He pressed the power button on the remote and then dropped it to the floor. He brought both hands to her waist and hiked her shirt up so he could caress the skin on her back. He traced small circles on her back with his left hand and held her tighter against his left side. She slowly moved her hand up to his cheek and gently held the left side of his face as the kisses deepened. He attempted to pull her even closer and then shift her on top of him but jostled his left side too much and pulled back from the kisses with a wince.

Claire sighed and shook her head at him in amusement. "You just had to try, didn't you?"

He chuckled and shrugged. "Worth a shot."

"You heal fast, shug, but not that fast," Claire told him with an affectionate grin as she placed a kiss to his neck. "We should probably take it easy for now."

"Seems like a waste to me," Eliot told her with a smirk.

"We'll make up for it when you don't have bruised ribs and a sprained wrist," she told him sternly. "I think you can do without this time."

"This time and the next who knows how many weeks. Not to mention the last three that you've been gone. You really can't blame me for making a move."

She chuckled and grinned at him. "I never said I blamed you and, for the record, I thoroughly enjoyed the kissing."


	23. Part Two, Chapter Fourteen: Family

**A/N: **This is the last chapter of Part 2! I've started working on Part 3 but I'm going to finish some other WIPs first before I start to post it. But be on the look out! I'm definitely not done with Eliot and Claire yet!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

PART TWO: Mosaic Broken Heart

by angellwings

* * *

Chapter 14: Family

* * *

The rest of the day had been casual and relaxed. At one point he'd found her staring thoughtfully at her guitar in the corner. When he asked what she was thinking about, she'd simply answered, "North Carolina."

He knew the guitar reminded her of her grandfather and aside from mentioning her uncle and her grandfather every now and then she'd never really talked about her family. Especially not recently. He knew she'd worked years to get back to the states and see them again and he wondered why she hadn't attempted to contact them yet. Or why she hadn't mentioned wanting to visit.

But the moment had passed without any further discussion and he'd talked her into letting him cook dinner for her. The dinner had been delicious, if he did say so himself, and while they hadn't been able to get as far as he would have liked after dinner they'd worked around his injuries pretty successfully.

Only he woke up to find Claire gone with a note left on her pillow. He wondered how she'd managed to sneak out without him noticing and then he remembered he'd taken two of those pain pills she'd gotten him just before bed. He'd had a moment of doubt that she may not be coming back until he walked out into his living room and spotted her guitar still resting in the corner. He had no doubt she'd left it behind on purpose. Especially after that moment yesterday. She'd left it to remind him she'd be back.

He took the rest of the day to recuperate and then returned to work the next morning. They started gathering intel for their next job and then it was full steam ahead again. He had a passing thought to wonder about Claire but beyond that he was too busy to focus on anything else other than the crew and their current job.

Two jobs later, he and Nate were drinking to celebrate a successful con when Nate suddenly turned to the television above the bar. It was on the nightly news and something had caught his attention.

"Somebody finally got Morimoto," Nate said with a smirk. "It's about time."

Eliot looked up to watch the story. Morimoto had been busted for embezzling and attempted murder. He'd hired hitmen to take out his wife who'd been attempting to separate from him and who had found a loophole in her prenup. They'd found his communications with the hitmen and arrested the group he'd hired to take out Mrs. Morimoto. They knew the man was responsible for torpedoing numerous local businesses and stealing inventions before their inventors could file for a patent. The public now knew what people on the inside of his organization had known all along. He was not a nice guy.

The wife had ended up with the business and all of Morimoto's property as she'd managed to purchase controlling shares right under his nose. Mrs. Morimoto was either a shrewd businesswoman or she'd had some serious help.

He was betting on the latter.

"I had him on my list of potential marks," Nate said as he took a sip of his whiskey. "Guess I can cross him off." The story went on to say that a slow leak of information that began six weeks ago was what made the arrest possible. Nate smirked and then poured himself another glass before he held it out toward Eliot in a salute. "Tell Claire she did a hell of a job."

And that's when Eliot put it all together. Claire had been on this job for close to six weeks. And she'd stumbled upon some piece of information that put a woman's life at risk before she left. It had to be Mrs. Morimoto. He gave Nate a proud smirk and nodded. "I'll tell her, but I'm pretty sure she already knows."

A couple of hours later as he reached his apartment his phone rang. He quickly answered it and hoped he'd guessed who it was on the other end of the line.

"Hello?" He asked.

"Long time, no talk, Spencer."

Her voice sounded like honey, smooth and sweet. God, had he missed her. "I just saw the most interesting story on the news."

"Yeah?" she asked playfully.

"Yeah, seems Morimoto was arrested and his wife took over the company. Imagine that," Eliot said with a smirk.

"Well, what a crazy turn of events," she said with an audible grin.

"Almost unbelievable."

"On a totally unrelated note," she said with a chuckle. "The job's done."

He laughed. "Unrelated?"

"Absolutely not in anyway related to Morimoto."

"Uh huh, you expect me to buy that?" Eliot asked with a smirk.

"Not really, no," she answered simply.

"So, now that the job's done, what's next?" He asked her.

"About that," she said hesitantly. He heard her sigh nervously. "I know I said I'd be back as soon as the job was over, but…I've been thinking…" She paused and then continued after a short moment. "My family hasn't heard from me in seven years. I—I should—I should probably go home. You know, for a little while, don't you think?"

He couldn't say this was entirely unexpected. He missed her but he could tell even before she left that this was coming. "I'm sure they miss you," he told her. "They're probably worried about you."

"I'm worried about them too," she said softly. "And I miss them so much it hurts sometimes."

"Then you should go, sweetheart," he said as he let himself into his apartment. "I'm gonna be here for a while. You can come back anytime. If you need to do this then don't let me stop you."

There was a long silent moment before she spoke again. "Thank you."

"Anytime," he said as he closed and locked his door. "Do you need me with you? If you do I could take off now and—"

She chuckled warmly and interrupted him. "No, that's okay. I'm glad to hear you'd come if I needed you though."

"Never question that," he told her. "Ever."

"I won't," she told him. "But I think this is something I should do on my own. I haven't seen them since I was eleven, it might be a bit of a shock."

"Call me if you need me," he said as he sat down on his couch and his eyes drifted to her guitar. "I mean it. Any time, any day."

"I will," she promised. "You're the first person I'll call if I need anything, Eliot. The very first person."

"Are you flying or driving?" He asked.

"Both," she answered. "The nearest airport is 45 minutes from home."

"Call me when you land and then when you get to wherever home is, okay? I wanna know if you get there safely," he said worriedly. Really he was just looking for reasons to prolong the phone call.

She chuckled. "Wow, I haven't had anyone to call when I'm traveling in years. That'll take some getting used to again."

"Seriously, don't forget," Eliot said with an amused grin.

"I won't," she said with a soft laugh. "My flight's boarding," she told him. "I should go."

"Be careful."

"You too," she told him. "Love you."

"You too," he said as he repeated her own words.

He hesitantly hung up his phone and then threw it onto the coffee table. Her need to return home wasn't surprising but he was looking forward to having her back. She would be back eventually, he was certain of that. She'd been away from her family long enough. He knew she deserved to see them and he didn't want to stand in the way of that. He could deal with missing her for a little while longer and she'd assured him she'd call if she really needed him.

There was a knock at his apartment door and he furrowed his brow at it as he answered. He found Hardison and Parker on the other side of the door. Hardison held up a six pack of beer with a sympathetic smile.

"Tara had me book Arm Candy's airfare," Hardison explained. "Thought you might need some company."

Eliot gave Hardison and Parker a ghost of a grin before he accepted the six pack and motioned them inside. "Thanks."

"So, is she gone gone or just gone?" Parker asked as she shut the door behind them.

"Just gone," Eliot answered. "For now. She's going home."

"Where's home?" Parker asked.

"North Carolina," Hardison answered.

Eliot turned a glare on him.

"What?" Hardison asked. "You had to assume I had a file on her. I have files on everybody."

"Do you think she'll be back sooner or later?" Parker asked in concern.

"Don't know," Eliot answered with a shrug as he opened one of the bottles of beer. "But I know I'll be here whenever she decides to come back."

"I hope it's sooner," Parker told him. "I like her. I like seeing you with her."

"Yeah, man, I gotta admit," Hardison said with a smirk. "You're almost pleasant when she's around. I don't mind that at all."

"Yeah," Eliot said with a chuckle. "I guess so."

"In the meantime," Parker said as she grabbed a beer for herself. "You're stuck with us, and we like you, growly angry grumbling and all."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, but secretly he felt a swell of affection for these two people he hesitantly claimed as family. And he hoped, someday, that Claire would be a part of this too. No matter what, though, he'd always be there for her if she needed him. Whenever that may be.


	24. Part Three, Prologue: Home

PART THREE: Brave and Wild

by angellwings

* * *

Prologue: Home

* * *

Her instinct when she and Shelley had finished the job was to find her way back to Eliot, but she knew she owed her family a visit. To be honest, she was eager to see them. She'd worked all of her adult life to get back home and now she was actually there. Her plane landed at the small regional airport closest to her hometown and it immediately felt familiar. Everything was so green and clean and pretty.

She took a deep breath and inhaled the warm air that enveloped her. it was warmer than New York or Boston by nearly 20 degrees and she loved it. She could feel the humid thickness surrounding her as soon as she stepped onto the tarmac. She remembered hating the humidity as a child. It's not easy to maintain straight hair when you have natural curl in the South. But after being away from it for so long she couldn't help but love it.

She was home.

She thought about calling her uncle to let him know she was coming, but since the last thing he'd heard from her was a rushed letter right after she and her mother had split she felt a phone call wasn't enough. Instead, she rented a car and drove about twenty minutes south to a small bustling main street that never seemed to change. Local theater for community productions? Still there. Local Newspaper that ignores the World and uses town events for the headlines? In the same old brick building. Antique store owned by Old Irma? Check. Army &amp; Navy store? Check. Kimbrall's discount furniture? Check. Harley's General Store and Ice Cream Parlor? You guessed it. Check.

The only thing strangely missing from her old hometown were the half dozen barbecue restaurants that existed within the same five mile stretch. She'd only counted two. Lexington was built on barbecue. They had their own damn style for crying out loud. Why would any of those restaurants close? It appeared to be recent too. The store fronts were still there. She brushed it off as something she'd worry about later when Lanier's Building Supply suddenly came into view. The family business. Lanier's had been keeping local contractors and carpenters supplied with goods since 1945. Her grandfather built it from nothing. Their family never struck it rich, but they never starved either.

She continued passed main street and until the buildings thinned and long stretches of empty land and rolling hills appeared. She turned down a dirt driveway and a yellow farmhouse came into view. A lovely, beautiful, warm farmhouse. Not too big, not too small with a wrap around porch and an old wooden garage. Every light in the house was on and glowed bright in the setting sun and she sighed contentedly. A bit of tension left from the job fell away as she parked and observed the house.

Home. She was home.

Her eyes began to water and she took in a deep breath to keep any tears at bay. Not now. Not yet. She grabbed her purse and her duffel out of the driver's side and marched up the front steps. She opened the old wooden screen door that clearly needed a fresh coat of paint and then paused with her fist set to knock.

Oh god, what if they didn't live here anymore? What if they didn't recognize her? What if they hated her? They didn't know she'd basically been held captive for 8 years by a mercenary. They didn't know that she'd stayed away and out of contact before that and ever since for their own safety. As far as they knew, she'd gone away and never came back.

No, she didn't come this far to chicken out. Damn it, she came this far to see her family again. Her real family. The only family that had ever cared for her. The family she always wished she'd had more than 12 years with. She gathered up her nerves and knocked firmly on the door.

The door opened and all questions about the lack of barbecue restaurants in town were forgotten because there, in the doorway, was her Uncle Everette. Tall and lanky as ever, though I bit grayer than when she'd left. His eyes lit up and filled with tears before he pulled her in for the biggest and most enthusiastic hug she'd had in a decade and a half.

"Always knew you'd come home someday. Welcome back, Clarabelle," he said in a hoarse emotional tone as he held her tightly. "Welcome home."

Finally. She thought as she let the tears she held back fall. She'd worked for years with the dream of returning home in the back of her mind. It wasn't a dream any more. It was very real.


	25. Part Three, Chapter One: Small Town Case

**A/N: **Chapter one takes place 3 weeks after the prologue and don't worry you'll eventually find out what Claire's been up to for those 3 weeks.

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

PART THREE: **Brave and Wild**

by angellwings

* * *

_Chapter One: Small Town Case_

* * *

"I gotta be honest, Eliot, I'm not sure this one's for us," Nate said as soon as the potential client was out the door. "I know you have a weakness for food—"

"Who else are they gonna turn to?" Eliot asked him. "Technically, Henderson hasn't done anything illegal so they can't go to the police. Besides in a tiny town like that they don't have the resources to really investigate. And in the South, barbecue is more than food, Nate. It's a tradition and a freakin' artform. Particularly for the Carolinas. They got their own style of barbecue. It's named after them, dammit. And that family just had their legacy stolen from them. Each restaurant has a different recipe and a different philosophy on cooking the meat. This Henderson guy swiped it out from under them and then intimidated them all the way outta town. Away from their home. You're telling me that of all the jobs we've done, this one is not for us? No, no way. If we don't help them, no one will."

Nate let out a long suffering sigh and then grinned at Eliot in amusement. "I never really had a say in this, did I?"

"Well, that all depended on whether or not you gave me the right answer," Eliot told him.

"And the right answer is to take the job, obviously," Nate said with a smrik.

"Obviously," Eliot agreed.

"Alright, I guess we're going to North Carolina. Since you agreed to this, you get to tell Hardison," Nate said as he stood from the table and headed upstairs.

Eliot smirked after him. "It would be my genuine pleasure."

Hardison was going to hate this.

* * *

"Hell no. No. I'm not going, Eliot. We just got back from that case in Hell's Rump, Nevada and yeah it was hot but at least that was a dry heat! Now you want me to suffer in humidity? No. No."

"It was Pahrump, not—you know what, it's too late, man. Nate already said we're going," Eliot said with a smirk.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Hardison asked him knowingly. "Look man, I know you haven't heard from your girl in three weeks but that's no reason to take this stuff out on me."

Eliot rolled his eyes and shook his head as he mumbled under his breath, "I've heard from her. Once."

Parker giggled at them. "Please, he'd do this whether or not he'd heard from Claire and you know it. Besides, what do you have to complain about?" Parker asked him. "You spend most of every job in air conditioning or a running van. If anyone's going to be in the heat it's gonna be Eliot or myself and I'm fine with this job. Where there's barbecue there's usually French fries. Right, Eliot?"

Eliot gave her a lopsided grin and nodded.

"I'll go anywhere there's decent French fries," Parker said gleefully.

"Good, that's settled then," Eliot told them. "I'll call the Speedmans and let them know we're on our way."

"How'd these people get our number anyway?" Hardison asked. "Last I heard we don't exactly advertise."

"He said somebody passing through gave them our card. He didn't catch a name," Eliot told Hardison with a wary expression.

"Want me to prepare for an ambush?" Hardison asked. "I can pack some extra toys that might come in handy."

"Probably a good idea, yeah," Eliot agreed.

"Good as done," Hardison said as he started to gather his things.

"Oh good! This means I can bring my new rig!" Parker exclaimed with a mischievous grin. "This'll be the perfect job to test it!"

"Test it?" Hardison asked in alarm. "You haven't tested it yet? And you're gonna use it?"

"How else would I test a rig?" She asked him with a furrowed brow.

* * *

Two days later, they rode into town and Eliot was more than ready to get out of that damn van. Road trips with Parker and Hardison left him needing a moment alone. Luckily, Nate took Eliot with him to meet the client instead of Sophie. That gave him a break and he could trust Sophie to calm the other two down. One was hopped up on gummy frogs and the other on chocolate. On the trip back he'd have to remember to never let them go on a snack run without him.

The town had a quaint main street and Eliot found himself feeling at home, surprisingly. It reminded him of where he grew up. He and Nate walked to the storefront that had once been "Speedy's Barbecue" and knocked on the glass front door. The man Eliot and Nate had met with briefly at McRory's immediately came to the door and let them in.

"Come on in," the older man said with a bright smile and sweeping gesture of his arm. The inside was just as hot as the outside and Eliot pulled back his hair instinctually.

The older balding man shook Nate's hand then Eliot's hand before he pulled his baseball cap off his head to reveal a stack of napkins inside the cap. He took one napkin out and wiped it across his sweating bald head and then replaced the stack of napkins in the hat. "Sorry about the air," he told them. "Just got the power turned back on today. I called the company when I heard you boys were comin' but it took 'em a bit longer than I expected. It'll cool down in an hour or two. We've got window units in the back that should speed it up a bit. Come on back here to the office and we'll sit a spell." He put the cap back on his head as he talked.

He led them back to the office where the window units were running on high and a folding table was set up with a computer and messy stacks of papers. There was a rocking chair and a couple of hand made wooden dining table chairs with thin cushions on the seats. Mr. Speedman motioned for Eliot and Nate to take the dining chairs and then pointed to the cheap red cooler on the floor. "Can I offer you boys a beer?"

Eliot accepted the bottle with a thankful nod and Nate politely passed. The old man took one out for himself, knocked the bottle cap against the counter to open it and then settled in his rocking chair.

"Thank you for coming back here so fast, Mr. Speedman, we know this must of have been hard for you," Nate told him once they were all seated.

"Well, I do still own the building. I'm mostly worried about Henderson sending the sheriff after me for opening back up," he said with a worried sigh.

"We won't let that happen," Eliot promised him before he took a sip of his beer. "We're gonna run this place ourselves and we ain't gonna run it as Speedy's. It's well within the law."

"You don't know Henderson," Mr. Speedman said with a chuckle.

"No, but we've known plenty of people like him," Nate said with a sympathetic smile. "We're prepared, Mr. Speedman. You can trust us."

"It's a fool idea to begin with but my son is convinced it's the only option we've got," Mr. Speedman said with a shake of his head. "Y'can't make things any worse, I s'pose. Might be good timing too. No one's going to want to cause a scene during the Festival. It's our biggest tourist event of the year. You got a lot of work ahead of you though to get this place ready to go by then."

"We've got a good team. We'll have it ready," Eliot assured him.

"My son'll help y'out if you need it, too," Mr. Speedman offered. "He knows the business as well as me. Maybe better. I'll leave you his number. He lives one town over now. He'll be here in a blink if you ask."

"Good, we may need him," Nate said with a nod.

Mr. Speedman turned toward Eliot. "You told me you know good food, son. You ever slow cooked pork in a pit before?"

"A few times. Yes, sir," Eliot said with a nod.

"Just a few, huh?" Speedman asked with a teasing grin. "Yeah, you'd better call m'boy. You'll need him. This ain't something you can pick up overnight."

Eliot saw it for the good natured jab it was and chuckled. "Yes, sir. Trust me, I do not want to be the one to disgrace good ol' Carolina Barbecue."

"Especially since you're from a little further west, huh?" Speedman asked knowingly. He was guessing based on Eliot's accent. "We do things a little differently out this way."

"So I've been told."

"We'll make it convincing, Mr. Speedman," Nate said with a smirk.

The old man took one last sip of his beer and then stood slowly. He stretched a bit before he threw away the bottle. "Alright, well, I'll leave you boys to it and get out of your way." He turned with a wave and headed out the back screened door. "See you at the Festival. So will everyone else in the tri-state area."

Eliot chuckled and waved as he watched him go. "I like this place already."

"You would," Nate said with a laugh. "Call the son. I need you focused on your job this time and not the food."

"I could do it," Eliot said with a huff.

"I have no doubt, but call the son. Just in case."

Eliot called the son and he and Nate were set to meet him at the general store down the street. They passed the town courthouse on the way there. It wasn't functioning but it had been turned into a museum on the town's history. The construction of a stage across from the courthouse caught his attention. The Barbecue Festival, that the town was famous for, wasn't for another week. Why were they already setting up? In fact there were stages every two blocks down Main Street and they were all under construction.

"It's a little early for that, isn't it?" Nate asked him.

Eliot nodded his agreement. The last stage they passed was completely set. The sounds system was out as well.

"Testing, testing."

There was a man standing on stage with peppered gray hair and a guitar hanging around him by the strap.

There was a laugh off to right of the stage that struck Eliot as particularly familiar. His chest tightened slightly and he ignored Nate as he tried to urge him on to the General Store. Nate gave up when a woman stepped on stage. A very particular red head, in fact.

"You know better than to mike check like that," she said in to the microphone with a laugh.

"Alright then Clarabelle, show this old man how it's done, why don't you?" the man asked as he backed away from his mike stand.

"You've got to be kidding me," Nate said with a shake of his head. "Of all the town's you could have picked," he chuckled before he continued. "You picked Claire's."

The voice he knew so well filled the streets with an a cappella performance of an old hymn, "Let the Circle Be Unbroken", and he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe really. He was so surprised to see her. You'd think Hardison would've mentioned it if he recognized the town.

Nate motioned toward the stage. "You go. I'll meet Mr. Speedman's son."

Eliot must have nodded because Nate walked away with a knowing smirk. Eliot crossed the street and tried to stay just out of her view while she sang. He hadn't seen her in a while and she hadn't invited him here. He didn't know how she would react. She opened her eyes as the song ended, the man on the stage with her started to clap, and that's when her eyes found his. They widened and she blinked for several moments before she finally beamed at him and shook her head in amazement. He smiled brightly in return which she must have taken as a sign that she could acknowledge him. This job didn't require him to be so far undercover that he couldn't recognize Claire. In fact, it might help.

She hopped off the front of the stage and ran right to him.

"I knew you'd come," she whispered as she wrapped her arms around him. He gave her a questioning look as she pulled back from the embrace. Her eyes widened as if she was remembering something and then said, "Oh god, you should know my Uncle kind of thinks that we're—"

"Well, if it isn't Roy Chapel," the man on the stage said as he set his guitar on the stand and hopped off the stage himself. "Clarabelle made it sound like I wouldn't get a chance to meet you. Now I finally get to play that intimidating uncle card I missed out on while she was dating those European boys."

"Married," she finished with a sigh. "Shauffner called them." The man joined them and Claire cleared her throat with an apologetic glance. "Uncle Everette, this is Roy—"

"The husband," Everette said with a chuckle as he shook Eliot's hand. "Yes, I know. Paul told me all about it."

"Paul?" Eliot asked.

"Shauffner," Claire told him with a small smile. "He sent Everette a copy of the photo we took, remember?"

Eliot resisted the urge to sigh and shake his head and smiled pleasantly instead. "Did he? Well, that was nice of him."

Claire nodded wordlessly and then turned to her uncle. "Uncle Ev, do you mind if I…" her sentence trailed off but she motioned to Eliot and Everette shook his head.

"By all means, take your time," Everette said. "I'm gonna go speak with sound guys, make sure they got all the levels they needed."

Once he was out of earshot she gave Eliot another apologetic look. "I am so sorry. I didn't expect you to just show up. I thought—"

"But you did expect me?" He asked with a furrowed brow.

"I gave the Speedmans your card," she told him. "When I got here there were two of the old barbecue restaurants left open and then when Henderson forced Speedy's to close I knew somebody had to do something. I can't operate in my own home town, so…"

"Why didn't you call me?" He asked.

"I can't be any where near this," she told him with a shake of her head. "I couldn't be the one to contact you. Besides, you need a community pillar like Speedman to bring you in on this. No one here would trust you if I'd been the one to invite you."

"This is your town too, isn't it?" He asked.

"It was my town when I was twelve," she answered honestly. "These people haven't seen me in years. I've spent that last three weeks trying to gain back some footing. I wasn't gaining it fast enough. That's when I gave Kip your card."

"Kip? Who's Kip?"

"Mr. Speedman's son," she told him. She breezed past the fact very fast but he could tell there was more to Kip than being Mr. Speedman's son.

"So, if you can't be anywhere near this then how is this going to work with your family thinking we're married?"

"And the town."

"What?" Eliot asked.

"Yeah, apparently I've gained an aunt since I left town. She's nosy as hell. She put a marriage announcement in the town paper," Claire said with a sigh.

Eliot gave her a flat look and sighed.

"I know," Claire told him. She understood that look perfectly. "I'm sorry. I had no idea Shauffner would send that photo to them. I swear."

"Claire, how the hell is this going to work?" Eliot asked her. He was only partly frustrated by the situation. He was mostly amused that a cover story they used for a vacation ended up reaching her hometown several states away.

She sighed and shook her head. "We'll figure it out." She paused then and gave him a flirtatious smile. "But first…"

She placed a hand on either side of his face and pulled him in for a kiss. He smirked against her lips and then wrapped his arms around her waist. He kissed her deeply and held her as close as he could. He hadn't kissed her in ages and in the midst of her apologies and explanations he'd nearly forgotten that fact. Trust Claire to bring it front and center, though. One kiss became two and then three and before he knew it they were essentially making out in the middle of Main Street. He forced himself to pull away from her and pressed his forehead against hers.

"You should have done that before you told me any news," he said with a grin.

She laughed and then nodded in agreement. "Probably."


	26. Part Three, Chapter Two: Alone Time

PART THREE: Brave and Wild

by angellwings

* * *

Chapter Two: Alone Time

* * *

Claire went with Eliot to the General Store to meet Nate and Kip. Kip was tall, broad shouldered, and scruffy. His face brightened a little too much for Eliot's liking when he spotted Claire. Claire hugged him briefly and then it was back to business.

"The reason I came back here was to help dad with the restaurant," Kip said honestly. "So, I'll do whatever y'all need me to do. Besides dad, nobody knows that restaurant better than me." Kip then turned to Eliot. "So, you're Roy, huh?"

"Roy?" Nate asked.

Eliot gave him a stern almost pleading look before Nate nodded his head in agreement.

"Right, your middle name. I forgot," Nate said with a smirk as he caught on to the act.

"Yeah, that's me," Eliot told him.

"Well, you, uh, you got a good one there, you know," Kip said as he motioned to Claire.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes at him with a chuckle. "Kip, stop. Seriously."

"Trust me, sometimes a guy needs to be reminded of these things," Kip told her. "It's easy to forget how good you have it sometimes."

"Trust me," Eliot said with a lop-sided grin. "I'm perfectly aware of what I've got, hoss. I don't need remindin'."

"I'm sure you don't," Kip said blank expression.

This no longer felt friendly. This felt like Kip was trying to tell Eliot he had competition.

"Well," Kip said with a smile. "I'd best get back to my day job," he told them. "Good to meet you Nate…Roy. Give me a call and let me know when you need me at the restaurant. I'll be there."

Eliot turned to Claire with a curious glance. "Something you wanna tell me, darlin'?"

She sighed. "He's an old friend, that's all."

"That's all?" Eliot asked with an amused grin. "Were we in the same room just now?"

She rolled her eyes at him and then turned back to Nate. "So, I don't know if Hardison's established aliases yet but Eliot's is going to have to be—"

"Roy Chapel, I'm guessing?" Nate asked.

"It's the alias I used on our vacation," Eliot told him. "Word got back to her family and they now know me as Roy Chapel."

"Alright, I'll let him know. He's going to hate it," Nate told them.

Claire smirked and nodded. "Good. Also, my family thinks we're married."

"So, now he has to fake marriage records too?" Nate asked. "Did you do this on purpose? To mess with him?"

"No," she said with a chuckle. "But it's certainly a perk."

"I'm assuming your family will expect him to stay with you?" Nate asked.

"Oh!" Claire said in surprise. "Yes, probably. I didn't even think of that." She brought a nail up to her mouth and nibbled on it nervously.

"Alright, I need to get back to Hardison and get him started on his part of this job," Nate told them both. "Eliot, we'll call you when we need you." Nate paused and turned back around to face them. "I believe you'll need these." He pulled out his wallet and then reached in and dug out two simple gold bands. He placed them in Eliot's hand with a smirk.

"You just carry those around with you?" Claire asked.

"I have 26 plans rolling around in my head at all times. At least ten of them include a fake marriage," Nate said with a grin.

"Good to know," she said with a nod. The look on her face clearly expressed her bewilderment at having 26 plans at one time. Claire was too impulsive to have more than one plan, let alone 26.

Eliot waved goodbye to Nate and then noticed Claire was still nervously chewing on her thumbnail as they left the store and headed back to her uncle.

"Is that a problem?" Eliot asked in concern. "That they would expect me to stay with you?"

"No, not a problem, really," she said nervously. "I just…no one's ever seen this part of my life before," she admitted. "You're gonna be the first."

Eliot took the hand she was nibbling on and pulled it away from her face. He held it in his as they walked down the sidewalk toward the stage. "It's not gonna change anything, Lanier. There's nothing for you to worry about." They stopped walking and Eliot reached for Claire's left hand. "If we're gonna do this, let's do it right."

She laughed and placed her left hand in his. He slipped the band on her left ring finger and then she took his left hand and did the same. They started walking again and Claire watched the sun reflect off the band for a few minutes before she spoke again. "You know I never really dreamed of a wedding like other girls. Every man I knew aside from my uncle and my…grandfather disappointed me somehow. And then with my mother being who she was—well, I always doubted whether or not love actually existed. Plus, my mother made marriage look like a business arrangement more than anything else."

"My life has always been heading in the opposite direction of commitment and marriage. I thought about it when I was younger but after everything that's happened and everything I've done…I can't really imagine how that would work," Eliot admitted to her.

"Now you get to find out. For the next week at least," Claire said with a playful wink. "C'mon, I parked the pick up around the corner. I wanna get back before my cousins and my aunt come home. If we get there after them they'll swarm you as soon as we walk in the door."

They walked around the block to where she parked the truck and Eliot stopped to take in the view. He recognized the truck immediately. It was a white and light blue 1965 Ford F-100. It had probably been in Claire's family for years. He imagined her grandfather probably drove it all the time. While he stood back to look at the truck, Claire climbed up in the driver seat in her flannel, cut off shorts, and cowboy boots. It was like a piece of one of his fantasy's coming to life. Good truck, strong willed woman, and a beautiful summer day. The only thing that would make this better is if they were driving off to a secluded cabin in woods some place to find a lake or a river. He wondered if Claire had ever gone fishing or if she'd like it. He'd have to ask her before the crew left North Carolina. Maybe they could sneak off for a couple of hours.

"You coming, Spencer?" Claire asked as she leaned out the driver's side window and smirked at him. It was as if she knew exactly what he'd been thinking about. Hell, she might have. "You wanna drive?" She asked.

"Hell no," Eliot said with a smirk. "I'd like to have the image of you driving this truck in my head for a long time to come. It's pretty nice view to have."

She rolled her eyes at him playfully. "Good ol' boys and their trucks. I will never understand it."

* * *

They drove a little ways out of town to a cozy yellow farmhouse. Claire led him quickly up the stairs on the porch, through the living room, and up the stairs to the bedroom at the end of the hall. She shut the door and locked it behind her. The whole time she'd kept her eyes peeled for any other people in the house. They never ran across anyone.

"What was that about?" Eliot asked in amusement.

"My aunt and my cousins should be home any minute. I wanted to get you in here to talk to you before they corner you," Claire said with a chuckle before she pulled him toward the bed and sat them both down.

The pale pink bedspread suddenly made him realize where he was. Claire's childhood bedroom. The posters on the wall dated it well beyond any kid that would currently be living in the house. He pointed to one in particular and flashed her a teasing grin. "Is that who I think it is?"

"Shut up, okay? Achy Breaky Heart was a cultural phenomenon," she said with a playfully defensive expression.

"Wow," he said with a chuckle. "Was it the mullet? I hear girls loved the mullet."

"Business in the front, party in the back. It really was a versatile look," Claire said with a laugh.

"And that kid?" Eliot asked as he pointed to another poster.

"Jonathan Taylor Thomas," Claire told him proudly. "I thought he was so adorable. Never missed an episode of Home Improvement—well until mom and I left, that is."

"So, this is where Claire Lanier spent her early years?" Eliot asked as he leaned back on the bed and glanced around. "It looks like it hasn't been touched."

"It hasn't," she told him. Suddenly she looked very far away. His brow furrowed and he reached for her hand.

"Hey, you okay?"

"My grandparents wouldn't let anyone clean out my room," she told him. "They kept it just as I left it. Everette said no one was allowed inside except to clean it. Gram didn't want anyone 'invading my privacy'. They were so determined that Everette didn't have the heart to touch it…even after they died."

He had a feeling that was coming. He hadn't seen them or heard her mention her grandparents, but still he sucked in a breath as the words left her lips. He knew she'd been looking forward to seeing them again and now she never would.

"Last year, Eliot. Gram died last year and Grandpa died a few months before that," She told him. He heard her sniffle and then saw her use her free hand to wipe her eyes. "I can't believe all that time I was gone I never thought that they might…How stupid was I? I mean I didn't think they were going to live forever, did I?"

He squeezed her hand and then pulled her into his side. "Not stupid. Hopeful. There's a difference."

"Everything is different now. It's been tough. Everette is married and he has kids. Turns out that's the one good thing that came from me being taken away from here. He didn't have to look after me any more and so he had more time to focus on himself and start a family of his own. He has two kids. And a wife. When I was a kid he never even had serious girlfriends. None that I remember anyway. I had all these ideas that I'd come back and things would be exactly as I left them. I should have known better."

Eliot shoved a few stuffed animals out of the way and then laid both himself and Claire back on the bed. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she quickly snuggled into his side. There really wasn't anything he could say to make this better and he had a feeling she didn't really want him to make it better. She just wanted him to be there for her. He could certainly do that. She rested her head against his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his middle.

"I missed so much. I finally got what I wanted after all these years and I still feel…I feel—"

"Incomplete?" Eliot asked knowingly.

"Yes. God, yes. I thought I'd thought of all the things my mother and Moreau had taken from me, but I was wrong. I just found one more. Time. Time that I could have spent with my grandparents or getting to know my little cousins. I missed practically everything. I missed Everette's wedding! I can never get any of those things back. They're just…gone."

"No, you can't get those back," he said thoughtfully. "But you're here now. You've got time with them now. You don't have to miss anything else. Just keep telling yourself that. It won't fix it but it might at least offer some comfort." He rubbed her arm soothingly as they both looked up at her bedroom ceiling.

There was a pause before Eliot cleared his throat and playfully poked her waist. "There's a Tim McGraw poster on your ceiling."

"Man looked good in a cowboy hat, Eliot. I couldn't help myself," she told him with a watery laugh.

"How did a 12 year old you get that up there?" He asked in disbelief.

"Very carefully and with a very tall ladder," she answered.

"So, what were all those stages being set up for in town?" Eliot asked after a prolonged moment of comfortable silence. "The Festival isn't for another week."

"It's a local tradition. We have music and pageants and town exclusive events the week leading up to the Festival," she told him. "Lanier's Building Supply sponsers the stage you saw us on today. We've got a rotating slate of local musicians playing from 4-9 all week long. There's a bonfire every night. It's good small town fun."

"Pageants? Like a Beauty Pageant?"

"Oh yes. Miss Barbecue Festival and Little Miss Barbecue Festival. Every year. In fact, you are looking at a Little Miss Barbecue Festival five time winner," she said with a grin.

"I'm sorry, what?" He asked with a disbelieving look.

She said nothing but pointed to her white and gold vanity in the corner that had five tiny tiaras placed on strategic display.

"Oh wow," he said with a grin. "Never would have guessed."

"Yeah, the pageants weren't my idea," she said with a sigh. "I preferred the talent competition but I had trouble winning every year so Mama thought I should shift my focus." She pointed to a shelf not far from the vanity that had three huge trophies displayed. "First place three times. Only three times. I competed in it every year."

"Starting at what age?" He asked her with a quirked brow.

"They wouldn't let me enter until I was 5," she told him. "Didn't get my first win till I was 8. Mama thought it was a huge waste of time."

"Where's all the other trophies?" He asked. "You know from the years you placed but didn't win?"

"Mama made me throw them out. To her not winning was a failure and I was not allowed to keep any reminders of failure," she said after a long pause. She seemed hesitant to talk about it. He remembered his little league tournament trophies he'd gotten as a kid. Only two of those were first place, but he'd been proud of each and every one of them. He would have been furious if his parents had made him throw any of his trophies away. He couldn't imagine that a parent would do that to a child. She must have sensed his shock because she continued to explain. "Mama was convinced I was going to be a star. She hadn't gotten out of this town so she wanted to make sure I did…and took her with me, of course. I was her ticket out. Or so she thought. She pushed me pretty hard with all of my lessons and competitions. It was just her way." She turned to look at him for a long moment and then swallowed thickly. "I've never told anyone that before."

"About the pageants or the trophies?" Eliot asked with a furrowed brow.

"Both," she answered simply.

"You mama sounds like a piece of work," he told her honestly.

She chuckled darkly and nodded. "You have no idea."

"I just realized something," he said with a smirk. "You missed high school, didn't you?"

"Yes?" She asked in confusion.

"So, you never had a chance to try and sneak a boy up to your room?" He asked as he met her eyes with a mischievous grin across his lips.

"Not until now, no," She answered with a chuckle.

"Then I guess we'd better make sure you get the full experience, huh?" Eliot asked as he rolled onto his side and pulled her body flush against his.

She laughed and her face flushed. "Have I mentioned how much I missed you, yet? Because I have." She kicked off her boots and then sat up so he could move his arm from her shoulders. She repositioned herself in the pillows so that her shoulders and head were supported and then motioned him forward with a coy curl of her finger. "Come on, Cowboy. I'm waiting."

He followed her lead and kicked off his own boots before joining her. She expected him to go straight for the lips so when he started trailing kisses down her jaw she sucked in a startled breath. He settled over her and unbuttoned the top of her flannel shirt to give him better access to her neck. She arched against him as he went back to kissing her. She put a hand under his chin and impatiently pulled his lips to hers. He adjusted to meet her lips easier and she responded by wrapping her legs around his waist. The kisses grew deeper and their hands roamed over each other. Now that they were back together, they were both acutely aware of how long they'd been apart. Eliot unbuttoned Claire's cut off shorts and slid the zipper on the fly down. She pried her lips from his long enough to let him slide them off her body. He tossed them aside before slipping off his shirt and then quickly began to kiss her again. She was addictive. He knew that and they'd been apart before. Before she came back to take care of him they'd been apart for five weeks. This time they'd only been apart for four. So, why did this time feel different? Why had it left them both with this hunger to be close?

"You were killing me in those shorts and boots, for the record," Eliot told her in between kisses. "You should wear them more often."

She laughed against his lips and shook her head. "I think that would prove to be a little too much of a distraction for you, Spencer."

"Not possible," Eliot said with a smirk. "You can never have too much of that kind of distraction. Besides you really shouldn't hide legs like these." He moved his lips to her neck again and began to trail kisses downward. His hand gently caressed the length of her leg, from her thigh to her toes. She sighed contentedly and let her head fall back against the pillows.

Eliot stopped kissing her when he realized she was laughing hysterically. He looked up at her with a furrowed brow as she brought a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but you were kissing me and then I looked up and saw him." She said as she pointed to the Tim McGraw poster on her bedroom ceiling. "Now I feel like we're being watched." He shook his head at her as she continued to giggle.

He stood up on the bed, careful not to step on Claire, and found he could reach the poster. "Sorry, brother. You gotta go," he told the poster as he peeled back the tape on the corners with a chuckle. "This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever done to get laid."

Claire laughed louder and harder than he'd ever heard her and he had to admit, it was probably the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. Laughter was one of the more obvious signs she was healing, however slowly. He peeled back the last piece of tape and then shoved the poster in her trashcan by the bedroom door.

"Now that that's done," she said with a grin and soft laugh. "You are about to get so lucky."

That's where she was wrong. He already was.


	27. Part 3, Chapter Three: Meet the Family

PART THREE: BRAVE AND WILD

by angellwings

Chapter: Meet the Family

"This has got to be the one place I never thought I'd have sex," Claire said with a laugh as she kissed Eliot once more and then slid out of bed.

"Hey, where you going?" He asked as he tried to reach for her.

"The little monsters should be home from day camp any minute, along with my nosy aunt. We should probably be dressed when that happens, Spencer," Claire told him with a grin as she gathered her clothes and headed toward her bathroom. "Though I'd bet we have time for a shower," she said with a wink and heated gaze.

"Don't have to tell me twice," Eliot said as he got out of bed and followed her into the bathroom.

By the time they'd finished their lengthy shower Claire heard small excited footfalls running up the stairs. She dressed hurriedly and then shoved Eliot and is clothes back into the bathroom just as loud banging sounded against her bedroom door.

"Clarabelle! We're home!" A little voice shouted through the door.

He heard Claire chuckle and then open the door with a loud creak as he continued to dress. These must be the cousins she warned him about.

"You mean you were gone?" She asked sarcastically. "I had no idea."

"Silly! We've been at camp every day this week, remember?"

"Oh, so that's where you go every morning. I thought you were just invisible for a few hours every day."

"You're so weird," another little voice said with a laugh.

"You're one to talk, Pippy Long Stocking. What happened to your pig tails?"

"Ms. Kara hair sprayed them! Cool, right?"

"Sure, we'll go with that," Claire answered with a chuckle.

Eliot pulled his shirt over his head and finished dressing. He slowly opened the bathroom door and heard two gasps.

"There's a boy in your room!" The girl with the pig tails yelled as she pointed at Eliot. Her pigtails were sticking straight up from her head, like she'd been hanging upside down and they'd gotten stuck that way.

The younger boy furrowed his brow and stared at Eliot suspiciously. "Does daddy know he's here?"

"Yes," Claire answered with a smirk. "We saw him in town earlier today actually. Munchkins, this is E—" she paused and sighed as she remembered their cover. "Roy. This is Roy."

"Oh! Your husband!" the girl said as she poked her little brother's shoulder. "He's the husband!"

"That'd be me," Eliot said as he stood next to Claire and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Roy, this is Rosie—"

"I'm seven!" Rosie shouted excited as she held her hand out to him for a shake.

Eliot smirked at her and then shook her hand gently. "Good to meet you. Nice hair."

She giggled and hopped excitedly at the compliment. "Thanks! Mama said it's gonna be a pain to wash out, but I like them!"

Claire laughed and then picked up the smaller boy. "And this is Carson." She held him against her hip and then playfully pulled his ball cap down over his eyes. He straightened it and then stuck his tongue out at her.

"And how old are you?" Eliot asked.

The boy quietly held out four fingers to him. "Daddy said you're a baseball player but I've never heard of you."

"Here we go," Claire said with a laugh.

"Minor leagues, kid. You wouldn't have heard of me," Eliot told him.

"Do you have your own baseball card?"

"No, but I have a television commercial."

"Really?" Rosie asked with wide eyes.

"I've never seen you on TV," Carson said with narrowed eyes.

"It only aired in Japan," Eliot said with a lop sided grin. This kid would not be easily fooled.

"Then that doesn't count," he said a scoff.

"Oh-kay," Claire said with a smirk as she set Carson back down on the floor. "Why don't you guys go play, huh? We'll catch up with you later."

Carson immediately ran off but Rosie stayed behind. "Clarabelle?"

"Yes, ma'am?" Claire asked as she knelt down to meet Rosie's eyes.

This was a whole new side of Claire for Eliot. He'd never once seen her with kids or heard her talk about them. He'd never even imagined it.

"We made friendship bracelets at camp today," Rosie said shyly as she dug into the pocket of her shorts.

"You did?" Claire asked with a grin. "I bet that was fun."

"It was," she said as she held out a hand toward Claire. In her hand was a simple braided yarn bracelet that matched the one of the little girl's own wrist. "I made you one. If—if you want it."

Claire stared at the bracelet for a long moment with a hand pressed to her lips before she nodded and took the bracelet from the Rosie's hand. "I definitely want it. It's beautiful."

"And we match! See?" Rosie asked excitedly.

"I do see," she said with a warm smile. "I will never take it off."

"You promise?" Rosie asked as she hopped again.

Claire nodded and clutched the bracelet tightly. "Promise. Now go on. Go play. I need to talk to your mama."

"Okay! She's in the kitchen starting dinner!" Rosie told her as she turned and skipped out of the room.

Claire stood next to him and said nothing for a long moment. She simply stared at the bracelet with a look of shock and amazement.

"You okay?" Eliot asked her in concern.

"You know, I always thought I wouldn't get along well with kids," she told him before she held the yarn bracelet out to him. "Would you mind?" she asked as she motioned to her wrist.

Eliot nodded, took the bracelet from her, and then tied it around her wrist.

"I gotta say," she said with watery eyes and a serene smile. "I'm glad to be wrong."

"The rugrats got under your skin, didn't they?" Eliot asked her knowingly.

"More than I ever thought possible," she admitted as she ran a hand across the bracelet. "They don't care. They don't care what I've done or who I became. They just…like me. They just met me a couple of weeks ago and yet—"

"They already love you," Eliot finished for her. "I could see it the minute I walked into this room."

"They're funny kids," she told him with a chuckle. "Carson is suspicious of everything. You can't get anything past him and Rosie lives in this world of rainbows and unicorns. I swear nothing gets that girl down. I really just can't believe I'm even here and those kids make that even harder to believe. I don't deserve this," Claire said as she held up her wrist with the friendship bracelet. "Everything I've done, I just don't."

Eliot took her hand in his and ran his thumb across the bracelet. "Everyone deserves a family, Claire. Whether it's one they're given or one they make or a combination of the two doesn't matter. They're your family. This is how family is supposed to be. It's okay to enjoy it."

She draped her arms around his neck and then pulled him to close to her. "You always say exactly what I need to hear. How do you do that?"

"I just know you, is all," Eliot told her with a chuckle. They heard footsteps on the hardwood and Eliot started to move away but Claire held him tighter and smirked at him as the footsteps reached the door.

"Hey, Claire, I know you were with Everette earlier today, have you heard from him since—Oh, well hello," A tall blonde woman said with a slow smirk. "You have a boy in your room, young lady."

"It's okay, Ada," Claire said with a grin before she held up her left hand to show her the gold band. "We made sure to get married first."

"Well, how very old fashioned of you," Ada said with a chuckle. "I'd never have taken you for such a traditionalist, Niece."

"Well, I thought I'd give it a try, Aunt," Claire said with smirk before she motioned between the woman and Eliot. "Ada this is Roy, Roy this is my aunt, Ada."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Eliot said with a polite smile.

"Oh god, please don't ma'am me," Ada said with a wince as she shook his hand. "I realize you're probably one of those polite southern gentlemen that have become so rare lately, but the ma'am isn't necessary. Ada will be fine. Has Everette seen him yet?" Ada asked Claire.

"Briefly," Claire told her. "He was pretty busy with the stage set up."

"Ah, so he's probably still there, then," Ada said with a sigh. "It's almost time for Jimmy's set so you know they're probably carried away by those guitars of theirs."

"Roy and I can go check on him," Claire offered. "We've got to head back to town anyway. We'll send him home."

"Yes, please do. I'd like him to be home for dinner at least one night this week," Ada said with a chuckle and a sigh.

As they passed Ada while walking through Claire's bedroom doorway, Eliot heard Ada whisper, "Good work, lady."

Claire laughed and rolled her eyes, but didn't respond.

"Well, she likes you," Claire told him as they stepped out onto the wrap around porch. "Or at least the way you look in those jeans."

"Thanks," Eliot said with a quirked brow. "I think."

"You should probably check in with your crew right?" Claire asked him. "I thought we'd ride into town and I could pick up Uncle Ev while you check in with Nate and company."

"Not a bad idea, actually," Eliot told her. "They said they'd call if they needed me but I'd feel a lot better if I checked in. Just in case. Probably need to at least pick up an ear bud from Hardison. Coms should be up and running by now."

"Alright then," Claire said before she tossed the keys to the truck to Eliot. "You drive. I have a feeling you're dying to."

"That's a 1965 Ford F-100."

"I know," Claire told him with a light laugh.

"It's in pristine condition," he told her.

"All the more reason I know you'll take good care of her," Claire said with a grin. "You wanna drive her or not?"

"Hell yeah I want to drive her," Eliot said as he held the passenger side door open for her.

"That's what I thought," Claire said as she stepped up into the truck. "Just drive down the drive way, take a right, and keep going till you hit Main Street."

The drive into town was beautiful, he had to admit. It was green with rolling hills and old wooden barns. The Lanier family land was surrounded by farms on all sides. Just before they reached Main Street Eliot noticed the Lanier Building Supply warehouse. It looked old. The signage was faded, but the parking lot was packed. Every contractor in the area appeared to shop there. Claire must have noticed him staring.

"Family business," she told him. "Uncle Everette took over when my grandfather died. Been around since 1945. It's lumber and tools, anything a carpenter or contractor might need along with a few other odds and ends."

He was suddenly reminded of his own family's hardware store and decided to focus on the road. But he didn't shift focus long enough to keep Claire from noticing.

"You ever thought about going home, Eliot?" She asked carefully. "I know you said you and your father left things in a bad place but…well, if you don't at least try then nothing will ever change."

"It's better this way, anyway," he told her briskly. "They're safer if I stay away."

She nodded and decided to drop the subject. She was never one to pry or push and she'd always had a knack for knowing when to back off. Especially when it came to Eliot. "If you ever decide you want to try…I'll be there if you need me, Spencer. You know that, right?"

He turned to her, met her eyes with a serious expression, and nodded. "I do."

"Good," she said with a small smile. "To get to the Holiday Inn you'll need to take a right here," she told him as she pointed at the stoplight up ahead.

"How did you know where we were staying?" He asked her.

She laughed before she answered. "It's the only hotel in town, Eliot. Where else would you stay?"

It had been a long time since he'd been in a town this small. He should've known. "Of course," he said with a laugh. "What was I thinking?"


	28. Part Three, Chapter Four: Meet the Crew

PART THREE: BRAVE &amp; WILD

by angellwings

Chapter Four: Meet the Crew

He parked the truck next to Lucille and then called Hardison to find out what room they were in. He led Claire inside to the room and knocked rhythmically on the door. The door opened a second later and Eliot pulled Claire inside.

"Well, if it isn't the Newlyweds," Hardison said with a grin. "Mazel tov."

"Does this mean you and Alice are in laws?" Parker asked Eliot before she pointed to Claire. "Since she's Alice's sister and all?"

"Parker," Claire said with a chuckle. "You're Alice."

"So does that mean me and Eliot are in laws?" Parker asked with an eager smirk.

"No, Parker, we're not—Claire and I ain't really married."

"Oh," Parker said with a pout. "That's disappointing."

"And even if we were you and I would not be in laws!"

"Why not?" Parker asked with a furrowed brow.

"Because you and Claire aren't really related," Eliot told her with a sigh.

"But if I'm Alice then isn't she Catherine?" Parker asked. "That would make us sisters."

Claire smiled at her and nodded before she elbowed Eliot gently. "Yeah, Eliot. That would make us sisters."

He shook his head and then rolled his eyes. "Fine. Whatever you want, Parker." Eliot tried his best to ignore Claire and Parker as they sat next to each other and began whispering. What in the world did they have to whisper about? "Nate," Eliot called. "What's the plan, man? Claire and I have to find her uncle and get back."

"Sophie and I are going to find our way in with Henderson," Nate told him. "To help steer him in the right direction. You and Claire are the new owners of Speedy's."

"Wait," Hardison said with a furrowed brow. "We're bringing her in on this?"

"We have to, Hardison. The whole town thinks she and Eliot are married," Sophie reminded him.

"How did you miss that, by the way?" Nate asked Hardison pointedly.

"My file says she's from Welcome. You said we were headed to Lexington. Two totally different towns, bruh," Hardison said with a shrug. "I didn't think to look for her Podunk town on the way here."

Claire rolled her eyes at him. "Welcome is ten minutes from here. It's a Baptist church, a grocery store, a racing museum, and farmland."

"How the hell am I supposed to know that?" Hardison asked her. "Besides, from what I understand you wanted us here."

"You, maybe, could have looked at a map, and yes, I did want y'all here. I still do. This is my family's town and Henderson will single handedly destroy it. Someone has to do something about it before his joke of a barbecue restaurant is the only one left," Claire told them adamantly. "The Barbecue Festival keeps this town afloat year after year. We've built a tradition here, an artform, and he's trying to monopolize it. So, tell me what you guys need me to do and I'll do it. I'm more than happy to help."

"Should we worry about her being involved in a con in her hometown?" Eliot asked in concern.

"In this case it actually adds some validity to the story," Sophie answered. "You're a young married couple that's been traveling individually for years and decided to put down roots. What better place to do that than one of your hometowns where one of you have family?"

"Family?" Claire asked with a furrowed brow. "We're involving my family in this?"

"Not completely," Nate assured her. "They're on the outer fringes of the plan. Just circumstantial."

Claire scoffed. "That makes me feel so much better," she said sarcastically.

"We won't let them get hurt," Eliot assured her. "Trust me."

She sighed and nodded with a half-hearted smile. She trusted Eliot, but the jury was still out on his crew.

"Kip is going to be doing the actual cooking while you and Eliot are the faces of the business. Parker and Hardison are going to insert themselves in the Barbecue Festival staff. We need all our ears to the ground on this one," Nate told them.

"First step?" Eliot asked.

"You and Claire and Kip focus on building up Speedy's again. We'll take care of the rest," Nate told him.

Eliot nodded. Hardison stood from the desk and then brought over a small box. He placed one earbud in Eliot's hand and another in Claire's. "GPS trackable, completely unhackable, and on our own exclusive frequency."

"Even with all the wireless microphones in town?" Eliot asked him skeptically.

"There will be no interference. I guarantee it," Hardison told him in a flat tone.

"You guarantee it?" Claire asked with a smirk. "Well then who am I to question the great Hardison?" She asked dryly.

"Damn straight," he said seriously. "Age of the geek, baby."

"Everyone will be in town tonight, including Henderson," Claire told Nate as she ignored Hardison. "If you and Sophie need an in you'd better show up. Henderson's restaurant is sponsoring the Grand Stand this year. If you hang out there you're sure to run into him."

Nate nodded. "We'll be there."

"Good," Claire said with a nod. "Let's take him down and keep him down, huh? He's a creep."

"That's the plan," Nate told her with a smile and a nod. "You two should go. Keep the ear buds in, we'll contact you if we need you."

"Be careful," Eliot said as he gave Nate and Sophie pointed looks. "This town's small, I can run if you need back up."

Nate nodded but said nothing in return as Claire and Eliot left the room.

"Hey," Eliot said as they reached Claire's truck. She turned to face him, but he could tell she was distracted. "They're not circumstantial."

"What?" She asked as she met his eyes.

"Your family isn't circumstantial. They matter," he told her. "I'm not going to let anything happen to them."

Claire reached up and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. She ran her thumb across his cheek and smiled warmly at him. "I know. Thank you." She placed a slow kiss on his lips before she pulled away and leaned back against the truck. "Is Nate always that…blunt?"

Eliot chuckled and nodded. "He lacks a bit of sensitivity according to Sophie. He can also be a bit morbid when he wants to be."

"Somehow I am not surprised," Claire said with a smirk.

"You get used to it. He really doesn't mean anything by it," Eliot said before he shrugged and continued. "Most of the time."

She laughed lightly and then turned and opened the passenger side door. "This is some family you've got here, Eliot."

"They're something, alright," he told her with a shake of his head. "Not sure what exactly. But something."

"C'mon, Cowboy," she said as she climbed into the truck. "Let's go pick up my uncle. We're gonna be late for dinner. Ada's real set on all of us being there. This week is gonna be crazy so it might be the only family dinner we have until after the Festival."

He walked around and got in the driver's side. "Look at you and your family dinner. Never seen this side of you before, darlin'."

"Never really had a family while I've known you," she said with a soft smile as he started the truck.

"It looks good on you," Eliot told her with a small smile.

"You think?" She asked with a nervous grin.

He nodded. "I do. Is your uncle still at the stage?"

"Probably," she answered. "When I was a kid he spent the entire week at the stage. We barely saw him. I doubt that's changed. This is the only week of the year he really gets to play in front of audiences."

"So, your love of music is a family trait then?" He asked her with a knowing grin.

"Everette says my great grandmother brought the music into the family. She was a member of the Tuttle Family. They were a traveling bluegrass band and pretty well known around here," Claire told him with a shrug. "She passed it along to my grandfather and then he just kept it going. Although, grandpa told me once that his mother was horrified by rock and roll. So she probably didn't like most of the music grandpa played. He liked rock and grandma loved country. She introduced me to Patsy and Dolly."

"Patsy…"

"Cline. Patsy Cline," Claire explained with a grin.

"Right, got it," Eliot said with a nod. "Did your, uh, mama like music?"

She tensed almost immediately and nodded hesitantly. "She liked the attention it brought her."

"You don't talk about her much, you know," Eliot told her.

"I know. Partially for the same reason you don't talk about yours," she told him with a soft smile before her expression turned dark and serious. "But also because the less you know the better. Trust me. The longer I can keep the life I had with her separate from this one the safer we'll all be."

"She really that bad?" Eliot asked worriedly. "I mean she came from the same family you did. She raised you, didn't she?"

Claire laughed. But it sounded very hollow to Eliot's ears. "Everette and my grandparents raised me until I was 12 years old. My mother was there, sure. She shuttled me to beauty pageants and talent competitions and model searches, but she did very little else until she took me away from this place. Everything she did, she did for herself. Not for me. Do you know any totally selfish parents that turned out to be good parents?"

"Can't say I do," Eliot told her with a sympathetic glance.

"Then there's your answer."

"Remember that offer you made to be there for me if I needed it?" Eliot asked her as they reached the block the stage was on. Claire turned to look at him and nodded with a soft smile. "That offer goes both ways."

"You know, Spencer," Claire told him with a chuckle. "You're the best fake husband a girl could ask for." She reached over and slipped her hand into his as he parked the truck. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Lanier," Eliot told her with a wink.


	29. Part Three, Chapter Five: Tradition

PART THREE: Brave and Wild

by angellwings

Chapter Five: Tradition

As they approached the small stage with the Lanier Building Supply sign on it they could see Claire's uncle on the stage with another man. Everette had his acoustic guitar and was playing his heart out to a song Eliot didn't recognize.

Everette spotted them and paused his playing to wave. The small crowd that had gathered turn to look at them and they both smiled awkwardly.

"Oh man," the other man on stage said as he too spotted her. "Is that little Claire Lanier? You ain't so little anymore, are ya girl?"

She laughed and shook her head before she yelled back to him. "No, Jimmy, I ain't."

"Get yourself on up here and let's find out if you still got those golden pipes a'yours," Jimmy said as he motioned for her to come on stage.

"No, no, I'm fine," Claire said with a shake of her head.

"Come on, sugar," the older man asked as he adjusted his cowboy hat. "We'll play ya some Patsy. I know how you feel about Patsy."

She sighed in resignation and then nodded. "Fine. But I have a specific Patsy song."

"Alright! Folks, let the gal through," Jimmy said with a victorious smile.

Eliot chuckled as he watched her make her way forward. She'd been away for a while but it seemed some people in town still treated her as one of their own.

"Welcome to the stage our own Claire Lanier, Five time Little Miss Barbecue Festival winner," Everette announced into his microphone with a wink at Claire. "Who's probably been sent here by my wife to bring me home for dinner."

Claire laughed and nodded. "One song and then you and me gotta go," she told him.

"What's your request, lady?" Jimmy asked.

"Love Me Honey Do," she told him with a confident smile.

"Ah, that one for you new husband back there?" Jimmy teased as he pointed to Eliot.

Claire blushed slightly and it was the first time since he'd been in town that she seemed bashful about their fake marriage so he could only assume the shyness was put on for the sake of the act.

"Oh yes," Jimmy told her. "We know all about Mr. Roy Chapel. Well, darlin', if marrying him brought you home again then I'm glad to hear it. 'Bout time. Welcome to town, Mr. Chapel. Hope you can get Speedy's up and running again. We miss it."

Everette's brow furrowed and he gave Claire a questioning look which Jimmy noticed. "Yeah, Ev, your niece and her husband are the new owners of Speedy's just down the street. Heard it from Kip himself. Looks like the prodigal daughter is home to stay, my old friend."

Guilt flashed briefly across Claire's face. It was so quick he nearly missed it. But he knew he'd seen it. She replaced it with a proud smile and wink at Eliot. Again, for show.

"Well, damn, looks like I'm always the last to know," Everette said with a laugh. "Roy," Everette said as he found him in the crowd. "You brought Clarabelle back to us and you've given her a reason to stay. Thank you, man. Welcome to town."

The crowd applauded and he felt Claire's guilt too. He wasn't as good as hiding it as Claire was but he hoped no one suspected. He knew as well as Claire did that they weren't staying. It wasn't safe for either of them to put down roots in one place or another. His apartment in Boston was the longest he'd ever rented a place. It was sheer luck he hadn't been forced to abandon it yet.

"Alright, alright," Claire said with a laugh. "Enough of the mushy stuff. Let's play this song before Ada hunts us down for being late to dinner."

The minute Claire's voice filled the air Eliot forgot his guilt in favor of watching her doing what she loved. She'd been right when she told him music was for her what food was to him. It was her art and her therapy. She was damn good at it too.

"My loves is deeper than the world's deepest sea,

My love is stronger than the mightiest tree.

My love is real,

My love is true.

Darlin' you know that's the love I have for you.

Well love me, love me, honey do.

You know I'll always be true.

Love me, honey, squeeze me tight,

Hug me, honey, with all o'your might.

Love me, love me, honey do."

He used the rest of the song as an opportunity to observe the crowd and survey Main Street. That's where most of the action would go down and it would be best if he knew the layout well enough to navigate it. Speedy's was only one block from this stage, which was perfect. Henderson's was three blocks from Speedy's. That was a little less convenient in terms of reaching Nate and Sophie if they needed him, but not impossible. The Grand Stand stage was across from Henderson's place and so also three blocks away. The hotel was a bit of drive so Hardison would need to park Lucille in the alley behind Speedy's. Eliot needed to remember to find out when the restaurant's garbage day would be. Hardison couldn't park back there that day. He'd block the garbage truck from reaching the dumpster.

While he was making notes in his head for the case he spotted somebody suspicious in the back of the crowd. They were watching Claire with a suspicious glare. He couldn't quite make out who the man was. His view of him was obstructed by a tree. He moved and Eliot glared in return. Henderson. He'd heard the announcement. He'd just found out who his competition was.

And so it begins, Eliot thought as Claire finished the song and the crowd erupted into applause. She waved thankfully and then grabbed her uncle and pulled him off stage with the words "we had a deal" echoing in the microphone.

Eliot wrapped an arm around her as she reached him and they walked with Everette toward her truck. He leaned toward her ear and spoke softly, "Henderson heard the announcement."

"So the job starts now, huh?" She asked him in a whisper.

He nodded. "Right now. I'm sorry."

"Why?" She asked him with a furrowed brow.

"I saw your face when Jimmy announced that we would be staying."

She sighed and gave the back of Everette's head a guilty look. "I don't like misleading my uncle. It's going to kill him now when the day comes for me to leave. He thinks I am—no, we are—making a home here."

"I know," Eliot said with a nod and an understanding glance. "I'm sorry."

She sighed and shrugged. "It is what it is. So what do you think Henderson's first move will be?"

"Gathering intel followed by a veiled threat. He'll see if he can scare us out of town without using any real force first," Eliot told her in a whisper. "That's what I'd do."

"So," Everette said suddenly as he turned to face them. "What are you two whispering about? Did Jimmy out you unexpectedly?"

"Well," Claire said thoughtfully. "Yes. We were hoping to talk to Kip about it a bit more first, you know? Make sure we were really up for it."

"Plus," Eliot added. "We haven't really sorted out the living situation yet."

"Oh, well that's easy," Everette said with a smirk. "You can stay in the cottage on the back half of our property. It's furnished and everything. We typically rent it out but our last renters decided to move to the city about a month ago. Now it's vacant. Perfect timing for you two lovebirds, huh?"

"Yes, perfect," Claire said with a bright smile.

"I'll take you out to look at it after dinner. It's got a nice backyard. Even has a little firepit. It's perfect for a newly wedded couple just starting out."

"We'd appreciate that," Eliot said with a nod. "Thank you."

"Your family now, Roy, you'd better get used to it," Everette said as they reached the truck. "Now let's get home before my wife blows a gasket."

* * *

They reached the house and Everette hurried inside to make peace with his wife but Claire stopped short of the front porch.

"Why is it that I can handle betraying some of the most dangerous men in the world but lying to my family makes me feel like shit?" she asked him with a shake of her head. "I mean going along with the married thing was fine. Little white lie, it won't hurt anything. But this…this is cruel. I've been gone for years and this job is making him think I plan to stay. You and I both know that there's no way I could do that. No matter how much I may wish I could," Claire said as she met his eyes with a furrowed brow. "There are a handful of people in the world who care about me, Spencer, and I don't want to hurt them."

"I'm sorry," he said simply. He couldn't say anything else to comfort her because he couldn't change the plan. They had to work with the situation they'd been stuck with. They had no other option but to include her family.

"These people you work with…"

"Yeah?" Eliot asked when her sentence trailed off.

"They're good?" She asked him nervously.

He nodded. "The best. Don't tell them I said that."

She smiled weakly at that and then lightly tapped her ear, "I'm pretty sure they heard you."

He winced and then nodded. He'd forgotten about their ear buds. "I'm never going to hear the end of that."

"Probably not," she said with a chuckle before she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. After that her demeanor changed. He had a feeling he just witnessed her putting her "game face" on. He'd never seen that before. Usually she switched it on and off without batting an eye. "We're staying in that cottage," Claire told him as she started up the porch steps. "I know exactly where it is and it's the perfect place for out of sight meetings with your crew. There's a dirt driveway along the back of the property that they can sneak in and out of. Besides, the more of this job we keep separate from them," she told him as she motioned to her family's home. "The happier I'll be."

"You hear that, Nate?" Eliot asked aloud.

"Loud and clear. Everyone here seems to know where we're staying so an alternate spot to meet is a welcome addition. We'll meet there later tonight. For an update."

"Hey, lovebirds!" Ada yelled through the screen door. "Dinner's on the table. Hurry before it gets cold."

"On our way, Ada," Claire called with a warm smile before she turned her serious expression back to Eliot. There it was. The Claire he remembered from his time with Moreau was present and accounted for. "We're going back to town after dinner. If we're gonna sell this we need to be seen mingling in town and we definitely need to be seen pulling late night's at Speedy's."

He smirked and nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

She chuckled and glared at him playfully. "Damn right, you better 'ma'am' me."

He laughed and then placed a quick kiss to her temple. "Your town, your family, your call, Lanier."

"Good, I'll call Kip," She said as she walked away from him and into the house.

Eliot sighed and rolled his eyes. "Great."

"Stop it," Claire said as she grabbed his hand and led him toward the dining room.

"What?"

"The sarcasm. Stop it. Kip's a nice guy. I think you'd like him, actually."

"I think he likes you, Claire," Eliot told her. "As long as he likes you, he ain't gonna like me."

"He doesn't like me," Claire said with a dismissive wave of her hand as they reached the small wallpapered dining room.

"Who doesn't?" Ada asked.

"Roy thinks Kip has a thing for me," Claire said with a roll of her eyes.

"Oh, sweetie," Ada said with a laugh. "Roy is totally right."

"Et tu, matertera?" Claire asked with offended shock.

"Matertera?" Eliot asked Claire with a furrowed brow.

"It's Latin for maternal aunt," Claire said with a shrug.

"Where did you pick up Latin?" Everette asked as he brought in the salad and sat down at the table.

"Dated a guy who studied it," She explained with a shrug. "Apparently rich kids study it at boarding schools."

"Dated or conned?" Eliot asked as he leaned toward her to whisper in her ear.

She smirked and winked at him. "Both."


	30. Part Three, Chapter Six: Could be

Chapter Six: Could Be

After dinner, Everette led them out to the back acreage on the farm. They followed in Claire's truck and she called Kip while they were driving. They were meeting him in an hour at the restaurant. Everette and Ada had updated the little cottage since Claire had seen it last. It was a tiny one bedroom, one and a half bath cottage but the fixtures and appliances were all new and gone was the thin ratty carpet she remembered. Now there were hardwood floors. It was fully furnished.

Her eyes fell on the wood cherry finished desk in the corner and then quickly looked away.

Eliot noticed the way she averted her eyes from the desk and gave her a curious look.

Everette cleared his throat and gave her a small sympathetic smile. "Most of this furniture is from Ada's townhouse but a few pieces were your mother's."

"I noticed," Claire told him with a small smile.

Now Eliot understood.

Everette looked down at his watch and then clapped once with an excited smile. "Alright, time to get this show on the road. My set is in half an hour. I should head back to town. You two coming tonight?"

Claire nodded. "Wouldn't miss it. Plus we have a meeting with Kip at Speedy's tonight."

"Good, we all want that place open again," Everette said with a nod before his smile fell and he gave them both a concerned look. "But be careful," he warned them. "This town's different than it was when you were a kid. Even if it doesn't look it. We got a wolf in sheep's clothing wandering around town."

"Henderson?" Eliot asked knowingly.

"Man's bought up near half the town through intimidation. He thinks he can turn the Festival into his own corporate event. If you ask me he's wanting to steal the revenue from our local office of tourism and keep it for himself. He doesn't give a shit about this town," Everette said angrily. "Without that tourism money this place would dry up pretty quick. We lost the textile and furniture industry, tobacco's been dead for years. The Festival is the only thing keeping people in town. Without that they'd all move somewhere with actual jobs. Our people have long commutes as it is but they stay for the pride of it. They stay because they can brag about our little town. If Henderson takes that then the town dries up. So, in my opinion, Speedy's is the first defiant step toward running that fool out of town. I'm proud of both of you. But Henderson doesn't play fair. So be careful."

Claire hugged her uncle and then kissed his cheek with a warm smile. "We'll be careful and we won't let Henderson intimidate us."

Eliot nodded and grinned at Claire and Everette. "Damn right."

"Good," Everette told them. "Well, I'd better get going but I'll see you two in town."

They both waved as Everette left and then Claire turned a knowing look on Eliot. "Intimidation. You were right. That's gonna be his first move."

"Henderson's a low life creep, not a mercenary. He's gonna do what all low life creeps would do. Especially when they underestimate their victims," Eliot explained. "Come on, let's go meet Kip. We need Henderson to see us working. The sooner we make Speedy's a viable threat the sooner this guy makes a mistake."

Claire got her bag out of the truck and dropped it in the bedroom before they sped off toward town. They went directly to the restaurant and found Kip inside waiting on them. He'd already prepared a couple of plates for them by the time they got there.

"Two half portion coarse chopped barbecue plates. Since I'm sure you've already had dinner. This is just enough for a taste," he said with a friendly smile as he placed their plates on the counter. "We can't technically serve this in the restaurant but seeing as how we're not open yet…either of you want a beer?"

Eliot's brow furrowed. "We can't serve beer?"

"Dry County," Claire told him. "You gotta drive half an hour north to cross the county line before you can sell alcohol."

"Dry—dry county?" Eliot asked with a glare.

Claire smirked at his outrage and patted his arm. "Relax, cowboy. You can still drink it. We just can't sell it."

"How does that even exist in modern America?" Eliot asked both Kip and Claire.

"Because this corner of modern America is still a bit old fashioned," Kip said with a laugh. "The only person who manages to sell Alcohol around here is Henderson," Kip continued. "Although, even that is once a year at the festival and only because he has a special wine from his vineyard for the Festival."

"This guy has a vineyard too?" Eliot asked in disbelief.

Claire nodded. "He's put a shopping center not far from it and your hotel is actually five minutes from it. He claims it brings in tourists."

Kip laughed and shook his head. "I've never seen one tourist in town to visit his damn vineyard."

"I bet those grapes grow surprisingly well out here though," Eliot said thoughtfully. "The soil out here would be perfect for it."

"There used to be a couple of smaller vineyards in the area till he opened up," Kip agreed. "Weathervane Vineyard out past the Lanier land managed to stay open as a special events venue but they gave up on the grapes. They say they just couldn't afford production, but we think Henderson had something to do with it."

"We as in the town?" Eliot asked as Kip nodded. "If y'all hate him so much why do you let him stick around?"

"He hasn't done anything that we can prove is illegal," Kip said. "He's well within the law. Until we have proof we're stuck with him. Anyway, go ahead. Eat before it gets cold. The sauce is my dad's recipe. It has a bit more vinegar in it than most other places use." He placed a small cup of just the sauce in front of Claire. "Since I know you prefer to dip instead of pour."

Claire laughed and then eagerly dipped a forkful of barbecue in the sauce. "You do pay attention, don't you?"

"Sometimes," he told her with a chuckle.

"Damn," Eliot said after a couple of bites. "This is good, man."

"I know," Kip said with a proud smile. "The pork is tender and well flavored. The sauce is tangy but not overwhelming. It's great barbecue. It's flavors and a process that's been perfected by my family for generations. And Henderson stole it."

"No," Claire told him. "He stole the business. Not the recipe. That's why I had your dad contact these guys," she said as she motioned to Eliot. "In order to pull this off, though, we'll need your help. You know the process for the meat and all the recipes. We need this place to be a viable threat to Henderson for this plan to work."

"I'm in," Kip agreed. "Someone has to stop him. So whatever you need, I'm there."

"Alright then," Eliot said with a small smile. So far, this meeting with Kip was going better than the first. "Welcome to the team."

"Thanks," Kip said with a nod. "Listen, Hoss, earlier today…earlier today I was an ass," Kip admitted as he turned to Eliot. "I crossed a line. I just wanted you to know I wasn't trying to make a move on Claire or a threat. I'm a little protective of Lanier, have been since we were kids, and I'm just coming off of a bad marriage myself so—well—I wanted to make sure you weren't like me. That you weren't taking her for granted. From what I see between the two of you, it wouldn't have mattered anyway. No one stands a chance of coming between this," Kip said as he pointed between Eliot and Claire.

"You know we're not really married, right?" Eliot asked him with a smirk.

He nodded. "Claire told me, but there's no mistake that you two have something exceptional. Are we good?"

Eliot nodded and reached across the counter to shake his hand. "We're good."

"Glad we got that settled," Claire said with a smile. "Now, let's get to work. We need a name. We can't reopen as Speedy's."

"The meat's pit cooked, right?" Eliot asked. "Why not just name it something obvious."

"Obvious? You mean like…The Barbecue Pit?" Kip asked.

Claire's eyebrows shot up and she beamed at the two men. "I love it! Not to mention it mirror's Henderson's restaurant."

"What's that?" Eliot asked.

"The Smokehouse," Kip answered with a grimace. "The food is substandard, but the atmosphere is top dollar. He doesn't do curbside ordering either. His place is too good for that."

Claire turned on her stool to look at the rest of the restaurant. "We should repaint. Maybe see if Hardison can track down some old historical town photos?" Claire said as she gave Eliot a questioning glance. "We could make this place represent this town. Henderson's is so cold and it feels very detached from the community."

"What about the old booths?" Kip asked.

"Keep 'em," Eliot said as he walked over to one and examined it. "They're old but the wood is still strong and they're well taken care of. They give the place character." Eliot turned to Kip. "You keep working on the food and we'll take care of everything else. We should be able to get the painting and pictures and signage done in a day or two at most. We could probably reopen by Wednesday."

"We'd have to have inspectors come through first," Kip said with a furrowed brow.

Eliot smirked at him. "We'll take care of that too and the permits. Don't worry."

"If you say so," Kip said with a shrug. "Ain't much else we can do tonight. I'm gonna clean up here. You guys should probably go down the block and mingle with everyone else in town. Word of mouth is the best way to advertise around here."

"Already had it on the schedule," Claire told him with a grateful smile. She leaned across the counter and placed a quick kiss to Kip's cheek. "Thank you, buddy. I appreciate you."

"Anything for you, Lanier," He said with a roll of his eyes. "This is how you always get me in trouble, you know that? Kiss to the cheek and a sincere thank you. It does me in every time."

She chuckled at him and nodded. "I'm well aware. Why do you think I've always done that? I figured out early on what your weakness was."

He laughed. "A pretty smile and a little affection and I'm done for. Story of my life. You two had better go. You'll miss the end of Everette's set."

"Right, he would never forgive me," She said as she reached out and grabbed Eliot's hand. "Let's go Spencer," she said as she glanced at the clock on the wall. "He should still have about two to three songs left."

He waved goodbye to Kip as Claire dragged him out the door and down the street. Eliot felt eyes on them, the closer they came to the stage. Claire leaned toward him with a smile and spoke with a deceptively bright face.

"We've got a tail," she said with a very convincing grin. "I've seen him at Henderson's vineyard. Security. He's been following us since we left Speedy's."

"How did you see him and I didn't?" Eliot asked in a whisper as he too faked a smile.

"My job is to blend into the crowd, Spencer. I notice the people who don't," she told him. "Plus, this is my town. I know the hiding spots better than you."

He quirked a brow at her. "The hiding spots?"

She nodded and then released his hand for a moment to loop her arm through his instead. "The little shallow alley next to Speedy's is where I had my first actual kiss," she told him with a smirk. "Or two. With the cutest boy in all of 8th grade."

"I thought you left town when you were 11?" Eliot asked in confusion.

"I did. I didn't say _I_ was in 8th grade. Just that _he_ was," Claire told him with a wink.

Eliot let out a genuine laugh and then shook his head at her. "You've been a heartbreaker that long, huh?"

"No," she said as her expression grew serious. "No, I wasn't a heartbreaker until I'd had my own heartbroken a few times. Not until I thought love and romance always had an ulterior motive. After that it was just a matter of keeping mine from being broken first." She cleared her throat and sniffled as she tried to reel in her unexpected emotions. "So," she said as she changed the subject. "What do we do about our tail?"

"Let him follow us," Eliot advised as he took in her small admission. "We'll let Henderson think he has the element of surprise."

"Speaking of Henderson," Claire said as they reached the stage. She flipped her hair of her shoulder and glanced discretely to her left. Eliot took a quick glance over her shoulder and then brought his eyes back to Claire.

"He's watching us," Eliot told her. "He's definitely worried."

"Good," Claire told him with a grin. "Do you see your crew?"

His eyes quickly scanned through the crowd and landed on Nate and Sophie.

"My do they ever look like city folk," Claire said with a chuckle as Eliot pointed them out to her.

_"That was the plan."_

"Nate?" Eliot asked over the coms. "What's the play?"

_"We've worked up a business proposal for Mr. Henderson," Sophie could be heard saying._

_"One he won't be able to resist."_

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that," Claire said with a furrowed brow. "The only business proposition you could offer him is—_no_. Nate, I know we don't really know each other but if you do this and it backfires—"

_"It won't_."

"If you offer him control of the town and he doesn't fall into whatever trap we're setting up for him—"

_"He'll fall_."

"How the hell can you be sure sure of that?" Claire asked as she clicked her tongue in irritation.

_"Ego always ruins a man like Henderson."_

"What?" Eliot asked. "What's he offering?"

"Land," Claire told him. "The only thing left that Henderson doesn't have is majority of the land around here. If this goes pear shaped then he'll be able to run anyone and everyone out of town. Make this town whatever he thinks it should be." She shook her head. "Nothing would be the same."

"But we don't have the land to offer, Nate," Spencer said with a sigh.

_"We don't need to offer the land. We just need to offer a way for him to get the land."_

And that was all they could get out of him before both Nate and Sophie approached Henderson.

Claire shook her head worriedly. "Come on, let's get to the stage while Everette still has a couple of songs."

Eliot laced his fingers through hers as they walked closer to the stage. "Nate knows what he's doing, Claire. You just have to trust him."

"I trust you," she said softly. "That's enough for now. Part of that land he's playing with belongs to my family though. If they lose that—"

"Not gonna happen," Eliot stated firmly. "It won't."

She smiled fondly at him and then leaned up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "You have to stop promising things, Eliot. You can't guarantee everything."

He put a finger under her chin and met her eyes with a determined expression. "I can for you."

She gave him a small smile filled with wonder and awe before she shook her head. "You get me with those eyes every damn time, Spencer. I believe everything you say when you look at me like that."

Everette spotted her in the crowd and waved. She smiled easily and waved back just as he started his last song. She let Eliot listen to Nate and Sophie while she focused on her uncle. Eliot had her back. She trusted him to look out for her and her family. She always had. Nate and Sophie walked away from Henderson looking satisfied so she could only assume they were successful with getting an in. While Eliot pretended to be on the phone to talk with Nate and Sophie about their meeting, Claire made her way to the stage.

She'd almost reached it when a hand gripped the underside of her arm. She snatched her arm away and turned sharply to find who had tried to grab her. She found Henderson smirking at her. She glared at him and rubbed her arm.

"I'm sorry," Henderson said with an apologetic glance. "I called your name but you didn't seem to hear me."

"So, grabbing at me was your next instinct?"

"Knee jerk reaction. I apologize. Let's start over," He said with a smile that looked very smarmy to her. He held out a hand for a shake. "Zac Henderson. I don't believe we've met yet."

"Claire," she said stiffly as she shook his hand.

"Yes, I know," he said with a smile. "You're quite famous around here. You and your mother both."

There was a jab in that sentence. She wasn't surprised. She'd been subjected to that until she was taken away from this town. She loved this place but it was conservative to a fault and a select few of the people were critical to the point of being cruel. Her mother had never been modest or reserved. She had vocal critics in this town. Always had. She'd been used to it once upon time but to have it brought up now by Henderson, of all people, felt like a slap to the face. Though, she tried not to show it, it stung.

She shrugged and gave him an overly pleasant smile. "Well, you know, everybody dies famous in a small town. Even you. What with all of your _contributions._"

"Thank you, but it seems your contributing as well. Rumor is you and your husband are saving Speedy's from extinction," He asked curiously.

"It's not Speedy's anymore. We bought the place and we're gonna make it ours. This town's always been home a variety of barbecue. Can't see any reason to stop now," she told him with pride. "It's one of the great things about this town."

"Well, regardless of the result, it'll be a valiant effort," Henderson told her with a deceptively polite grin. He moved to step past her and grabbed the underside of her forearm again and gripped harder this time. "May the best _man_ win, hm? Be careful though, that old Speedy's place is a bit of death trap. Who knows what sort of accidents might happen there."

She gritted her teeth and stayed perfectly still. She wanted to haul off and punch him but Eliot was right earlier. He needed to think he had the upper hand. "Let go of me," she said through her teeth. She tried to sound scared, though she was anything but. She was pissed is what she was. Not scared.

A throat cleared from behind her and Henderson immediately released her arm. "There you go, Ms. Lanier. You should be more careful around here. Uneven payment and all."

"Yes, thank you," she said softly, weakly, as she avoided looking at Eliot who she knew was standing behind her. She could feel him there.

"And you must be Roy Chapel," Henderson said as he held out a hand for a shake.

Eliot quirked a brow at him and ignored his hand. "Yes, sir, that'd be me."

"I was just offering your lovely wife some friendly advice from someone who's been in this business a few years," he said as he feigned smile widened and he retracted his hand.

"We've got all the advice we need. Thank you, sir," Eliot told him as he put an arm around Claire's shoulders and pulled her into his side. "Now, if you don't mind. My wife and I are going to go say hello to her uncle before the next set starts."

"Of course," he said with a nod. "I was jus going anyway. Don't let me keep you."

"We won't," Eliot told him coldly as he led Claire away. As soon as they were out of earshot, Eliot pressed his lips to Claire's ear as they walked. "You okay?"

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "Ready to give this guy hell, but otherwise fine." She rubbed her arm absently as they continued to make their way toward her uncle.

"You hurt?" Eliot asked worriedly.

"Jackass couldn't hurt me if he tried," she said with narrowed eyes. "I'm fine. You said he try intimidation. You were right."

"I heard the whole exchange over coms. I gotta say though," Eliot said with a concerned furrowed brow. "I didn't expect him to try it himself. He doesn't seem like the type to get his hands dirty. I may have underestimated him."

"No, you didn't. He's the coward you think he is. He waited until you were preoccupied and I was alone before he tried anything. He saw me as weaker, more susceptible to his shit," she told him. "That's cowardice. You were right on target."

They made small talk with Everette for a few minutes before parting ways and heading back to the cottage. Eliot had been watching her rub her arm all night long and she was distracted. Something about that interaction with Henderson had bothered her. He was worried. He'd hadn't heard the beginning of the exchange but what came after was typical intimidation. He knew she'd heard speeches like that before. Once they stepped into the cottage he turned to give her an expectant look as she rubbed her arm yet again.

"Claire," he said sternly. "What's with your arm?"

She huffed. "It's nothing."

"Nothing? You sure?"

"It's just a little bruise, Eliot. I've had worse," she told him with a roll of her eyes. "Is your crew coming by?" She asked as she changed the topic.

"Yeah, in about half an hour," he told her. He was choosing to ignore how furious Henderson bruising her or touching her at all made him feel for the moment. "What happened with Henderson? Why have you been so quiet tonight?"

"Eliot," she said stiffly. "We've never pushed each other before. Let's not start now, hm? It was nothing. Let's leave it at that."

"If that's what you want," Eliot said with a sigh. "I'm not going to force you to talk about it. Just…if you need to, you know that I—"

"If I need to talk about it you're the only person I'd run to, Sparky," she told him as her stiff stern face melted into an affectionate one. "I promise."

"Good enough for me," he said as he pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head. "I should have been there sooner."

"No," she assured him. "It was better that it played out like it did. He thinks I'm afraid of him. He thinks he's got the upper hand just like we wanted. Set him up, knock him down, right?"

He nodded and grinned at her before he repeated her words. "Set him up knock him down."


	31. Part Three, Chapter Seven: Restoration

**A/N: **So I've never really been one to write smut, honestly. This chapter is the closest I've ever gotten. Hopefully it's sufficient.

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

Brave &amp; Wild

by angellwings

* * *

Chapter Seven: Restoration

* * *

The meeting with the others went well. Hardison brought them the permits and inspection papers as well as the photos and signage they requested. He also brought them their IDs and copies of the marriage certificate he faked for Claire Lanier and Roy Chapel. He grumbled the entire time, as Claire expected. Nate didn't tell them all the details of the plan that night. He did mention that he and Sophie were going to nudge Henderson toward violent intimidation and bribery so they could obtain legal proof and in order to do that they were going to convince him the new restaurant was a threat that needed to be extinguished.

So far, so good, if his threat to Claire was any indication. They left quietly and as Eliot walked them out Claire left to change and get ready for bed.

"Hey," Nate asked as they reached the door. "Is she okay?"

"She says she is," Eliot told him as he glanced briefly at the door to the bedroom.

"She seemed…subdued," Nate said with a furrowed brow.

"I noticed," Eliot said with a sigh. "But we have a, uh, don't ask don't tell situation—"

"I don't think she needs to tell you what's wrong for you to know what's bothering her, Eliot," Nate said as he gave him a pointed glance. "You know her better than anyone. We can all see that. Use it. Look at her and _use_ what you know."

Eliot nodded as he thought about those words. Nate was a mastermind and he could read people's actions as thoughts. It was valid advice. "Thanks, man."

"You two be careful with Henderson," Nate told him. "He's not quite what I expected."

"I know what you mean," Eliot said as he thought about the bruise that was bound to be on Claire's arm. "He's more _aggressive,_" Eliot said with a sneer. "Than I anticipated."

"Are you going to be able to keep a clear head with her in the game?" Nate asked as he noticed the sneer.

"I'm a professional, Nate," Eliot said with a slight tone of resentment. "I'll be fine."

"I'll take your word for it," Nate told him. "But trust me, when it gets personal things become…foggy."

Eliot smirked at him. "Yeah, I've seen you fog things up live and in person, Nate. I'm aware."

"I've seen you do that too," Nate reminded him. "I seem to recall a job with a childhood sweetheart and some horses that—"

"Claire ain't Aimee," Eliot said with a huff.

"No. No, she's not, but that job was personal for you and you almost took it to far."

"Are you trying to tell me that you've never taken it too far because, damn it, Nate—"

"You don't want to be like me," Nate interrupted him with a chuckle. "We both know it. You call me out often enough for us both to be aware of how much you would _not_ want to be like me. That's why we're having this conversation. I'm trying to save you from doing what I would do."

The bedroom door opened and Claire came out in sweats with her hair pulled back and a frown immediately formed on her face at the sight of Eliot and Nate involved in an intense conversation.

"Is everything okay?" Claire asked with a furrowed brow.

"Fine, darlin'," Eliot said as he gave her a soft smile. He turned a stern look on Nate before he spoke again. "Nate was just saying good night."

Nate nodded. Deciding to let the conversation go. "Yes, I was just leaving. Have a good night, Claire."

She waved with a questioning glance at Eliot. "Good night, Nate."

Eliot shut the door behind Nate and turned to find Claire staring at him with a quirked brow. "What was that?" she asked.

"Just Nate, offering some unnecessary advice. It's not important," Eliot said with a small smile and a shrug.

"You can just say you don't want to talk about it," Claire told him with a small sympathetic smile as she crossed the small room. "You don't have to lie."

"It's only important because it's Nate," Eliot admitted. "And…he might be right."

Claire stepped into him and placed her hands on his arms, before rubbing them soothingly to offer comfort. He placed his arms around her waist and they just stood there in the silence for a few moments, with Claire rubbing his arms and Eliot enjoying the sound of her steady breathing. His eyes drifted to her t-shirt an then he grinned.

"You stole my shirt," he said with a teasing smirk.

She squinted one eye and looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Mmm, nope."

He quirked a brow at her and shook his head. "Yeah, you did."

"No, I didn't."

"How do you figure?" Eliot asked her with a chuckle.

"Well, Shug, in case you've forgotten, we're married now so what's mine is yours and…what's yours is mine. Therefore, not stolen," She said with a wink. "Besides, grifter," she said as she pointed to herself.

"Fine," Eliot said with a teasing roll of his eyes. "But that's my favorite shirt."

"Nitty Gritty Dirt Band?" She asked with a tone of approval as she glanced down at the band logo on the shirt. "Good choice."

He looked stiff despite his teasing expression. Worried, concerned. He was trying not to show it but it was her job to see past what people wanted her to see. Her hands moved from his arms to his shoulders, then her arms went around his neck, and her hands slipped in to the hair at the nape of his neck. She slowly and gently massaged him there. He leaned forward and bent down slightly to place his head on her shoulder. She felt him relax as she held him.

"We're in my hometown, yet you seem to be the one who's stressed out," Claire said observantly as she turned her head and placed a kiss to his temple.

He chuckled against her shoulder. "I'm stressed out because you're stressed out, sweetheart." He held her waist tighter and pulled her further against him.

"I'm not stressed—"

"Claire," Eliot said in a tone that clearly stated how little he believed her.

She sighed. "Okay, so I am."

"Something Henderson said upset you," Eliot stated. "You can deny it but I know it's true. And that bruise on your arm, it bothers you. You say it doesn't but it does. I _know_ all of this but you won't talk to me about any of it. So, then I worry. I don't want to push you because I know that's not what we do, but…you've been withdrawn since you ran into him. I want to help you—to ease some of what you're feeling—but I can't."

She stopped massaging for a moment and then sighed sadly before she kissed his temple once again. "Eliot Spencer the Protector. You just can't stand that you can't take this on for me, don't you?"

He huffed and then stood up straight before he gave her tired look.

She grinned softly at him. "You need something to punch, don't you?"

"Oh, I know what I could punch. But punching Henderson might blow our cover."

"Eliot, really," Claire said as she looked him in the eyes with a confident expression. "This bruise," she said as she took one of his hands and placed it over the black and blue handprint on her arm. "Doesn't bother me. I meant it earlier when I told you I'd had worse. The bruise isn't what hurt. It's the memories the bruise brought with it. That's the same arm Chapman bruised before you—before you suddenly came back into my life. It reminded me of what it felt like to be alone. To be truly alone. _That's_ what bothered me."

His hand gently caressed the bruise on her arm and then traveled up to her shoulder and stopped in the curve of her neck with his thumb lightly caressing her jaw. "You know you're not going to be there ever again, don't you? You're not alone anymore and you're never going to be again. I'm always here, anytime you need me."

"I know," she said with a warm smile.

"Do you?" He asked with a concerned expression. "Because sometimes you act like it's still just you. I love you, Claire. It's not just you anymore."

She leaned up on her toes and placed a long and slow kiss on his lips. She let the kiss linger as long as she could and then closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his. "_I know_," she repeated. "You've got to give me some time with this, though, Eliot. I haven't had anyone else to care about me since I was 11 years old. Not really. There were one or two almosts who failed me miserably and then people who treated me like a possession. That's all I've had for fifteen years. _You_ are the one exception. I'm not…I'm not used to that yet. Part of me still thinks that being anywhere with you is too good to be true."

"It might be," he told her with a small warm smile. "But that's the best part about it."

She opened her eyes and smiled brightly at him. "God, I love you. You and your grumpy grumbling and then this other side with a gooey warm center and a compulsion to keep a neat house."

"Hey," he said with a playful glare. "The gooey warm center stays between the two of us. Got it?"

She laughed and then kissed him quickly. "Got it." She slipped her arms around his waist and then placed her hands in the back pocket of his jeans. She leaned as close into him as she could and then trailed kisses from his jaw to his neck to his collar bone and then made her way back up. She leaned up on her toes to be eye level with him and pressed her cheek to his so she could whisper in his ear. "Why don't you show me how _not alone_ I am right now? Hm?"

She used her hands in his back pockets to tug him forward and pressed herself tightly against him.

His hands moved to her waist and she felt his fingers squeezing her sides, his grip was firm and full of want and need. He backed her up toward the kitchen without breaking the kisses for a single moment. When her back hit the cabinets, he used his grip on her waist to lift her up onto the counter. Once she was on the counter she wrapped her legs around his waist. For his part his hand slipped underneath her borrowed t-shirt and absently traced circles on her back. She sighed against his lips and then eagerly ground herself against him. He let out a soft growl and moved against her as well in response. She smirked against his kisses as she felt the tightness in his jeans and then reached for the button fly. She undid each button with a pop. She left his fly loose and then grabbed the bottom hem of his t-shirt.

They broke the kiss just long enough for Eliot to remove the shirt and toss it on to the kitchen floor. He replaced his hands under shirt, only this time he slipped them up the front instead of the back. The minute his callused hands barely brushed the underside of her breasts she whimpered pathetically.

Oh God, she thought, she'd never whimpered before. Not ever. Yet with Eliot she couldn't help herself. She ground herself against him again to show her approval of his actions so far and he groaned before his kisses became more forceful and instrusive. Her lips were already feeling a bit swollen. And, holy hell, did she love it.

Just as she was getting lost in the kisses, Eliot moved one hand from her shirt and slowly slid it down until his hand dipped below the waistband of her sweatpants. She pulled back from his kisses and gasped in appreciation as his fingers brushed against her hot, very wet, core.

Eliot moved his lips to her ear and she could feel his smirk against her cheek. "Now who has the warm gooey center?"

She laughed breathlessly as she arched against him. "Oh God, shut up and kiss me some more, Spencer."

"Don't mind if I do," He practically growled as his lips smothered hers again.

Why did every moment with him feel so incredibly perfect? And what had she ever done to deserve it?

* * *

The next morning she woke up with her bare chest against Eliot's, feeling refreshed and well rested despite the fact that she'd barely gotten any sleep. They'd been up _much_ later than they should have been. She placed small gentle kisses on his chest and trailed them up to his jaw until he opened his eyes and rolled her underneath him.

"Good mornin'," he said with a smirk.

She blushed and smiled sleepily at him. "Good morning."

He met her eyes and then reached a hand up to softly caress her cheek. "You know what I haven't done in nearly 4 weeks?" He asked.

"What?"

"Made you breakfast," he said before he leaned in and kissed her very slowly. He pulled back from the kiss and then got out of bed. She sat up and leaned against the headboard as she watched him dig boxers and a t-shirt out of his bag. She sighed contentedly and then slid out of the covers herself. She picked her sweats and t-shirt up off the floor from the night before and tossed them back on. She'd barely had a chance to wear them the night before anyway.

He grabbed her hand and led her out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where she sat at the breakfast bar and watched him work. She loved watching him cook.

Today they were going to paint the restaurant and the booths and then hang up the new signage and photos. After breakfast, Claire discovered she didn't have any tops appropriate for painting. Eliot leant her an old flannel shirt of his he'd brought with him. She put the shirt on over her underwear as she finished getting ready for the day. Just as she pulled the toothbrush out of her mouth and rinsed, Eliot's lips were on hers. She made a muffled surprised noise and then sunk into the kiss when they finally pulled apart she gave him a questioning glance.

"What was that about?"

"That was about how damn good you look in my shirt," he told her with a wink and a smirk.

That led them to a bit of a…distraction, and made them late leaving for the day. But neither one of them even pretended to regret it.


	32. Part Three, Chapter Eight: Complications

PART THREE: Brave &amp; Wild

Chapter Eight: Complications

They arrived at the restaurant an hour after Kip and immediately got to work. Claire and Eliot started on refreshing the inside of the restaurant and hanging the pictures and signage Hardison made up for them. Hardison forged the inspection papers and the permits too to make sure the place would be operational. He'd gotten the necessary documents to them at the meeting the night before. And Kip was getting the kitchen and the food ready to go.

Claire and Eliot were painting the walls and the booths while listening to the rest of the crew on coms. Hardison and Parker were working their way into the Festival staff. Parker in the food service tent and Hardison with the sound crew. Sophie and Nate were meeting with Henderson again. Advising him that any competition or resistance from the locals could complicate their plan to obtain the land around town. He didn't need the competition or the attention.

Which meant he'd need to act fast to bring down The Barbecue Pit. And when he did they'd catch him in the act and take him for all he was worth.

At that moment Ada appeared at the glass door and knocked eagerly. Claire wiped the paint on her hands on a cloth and then opened the door. "What's up, Ada?"

"We had a judge for Little Miss Barbecue Festival drop out," Ada told her urgently. "You're the only person available who's qualified to step in."

"What?" Claire asked with wide nervous eyes. "I don't think so."

"You're all we've got Claire. It's an emergency."

"Yeah, darlin'," Eliot said with an amused grin. "It's an emergency."

She glared at him and then rolled her eyes. "I haven't done pageants since I was a kid, Ada."

"Good enough for me," Ada said as she grabbed her arm. "Come on, it'll take an hour or two tops."

"We're sort of in the middle of work here."

"Nah," Kip said from behind the counter as he hopped over it and then headed to where Claire had been painting. He smirked teasingly at her as he picked up her brush. "I'm done in the kitchen. I can cover for you."

"You _really_ don't have to do that, Kip," Claire said through gritted teeth and a false smile.

"Not a problem at all, Lanier," He said with a smirk. "Go, have fun."

"Yes, see! They get it," Ada told her as she opened the door. "Come on, we've got just enough time to get there before it starts."

"But I really don't—" It was too late. Ada was dragging her out the door and down the street. "Okay, sure, I guess I'll help."

"Great! I knew you would. You're a good sport," Ada said as though she really didn't care what Claire had really wanted to say.

"Maybe I could change first?" Claire asked as she looked down at her borrowed flannel and paint covered jeans. She was wearing Eliot's shirt, so it was big, and then jeans were nearly ripped to pieces.

"No time," Ada said as she walked faster toward the community civic center. "Besides," she said as she turned her head to look her over. "You look…fine."

Claire rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Gee, thanks."

She took her in through the back of the civic center, handed her a clip board and then led her out to the judging table. Claire sighed and sat down next to two other women who were much younger than her. They both wore Miss Barbecue Festival sashes and tiaras. At least, she did her hair and put on make up this morning so she didn't look like a total bum. In this case, she could thank her mother for that crippling self doubt that left her unable to go with out make up and perfect hair in public.

For the next two hours she critiqued little girls for the way they walked, the way they stood, the way they spoke, and their over all grace and poise. She hated it as a kid and she hated it even more now. But one girl in particular did interest her. Her hair was in soft curls strategically placed, framing her face and covering her shoulders. Her sleeves were long, which was odd for an indoor competition at the very beginning of fall, she thought. Though no one else thought anything of it. The smile on her face was large and false yet successfully deceptive to anyone who didn't know that expression themselves. Claire had worn that look for most of her life. Though, she hadn't been quite as young as this girl when she started. The little girls nose also had a ridge in it, similar to Claire's own. She'd broken her nose at some point. Could be anything. Children have accidents, though from her experience little girls in beauty pageants were extra careful to not hurt anything a judge would see during a competition. Something was odd about this one.

She looked down at her sheet with the entrant's names and corresponding numbers and her eyes narrowed at the name she found on the page.

_Charlotte Henderson_.

Henderson's daughter. Claire glanced down at her arm that he'd bruised and then back at the little girl on the stage. _Bastard_, she thought with a gulp. Claire was preoccupied for the rest of the competition but still voted for her favorites. Turns out Charlotte won. Her mother ran on stage to meet her as the crown was placed on her head and the bouquet presented. Claire observed her with a shrewd eye. Dark sunglasses indoors, heavy make up, long sleeves. She hurried off stage as quickly as she came on, an indication that she didn't want attention.

As the crowd dispersed Claire made her way backstage and found both mother and daughter packing up and preparing to leave.

Claire knocked on the dressing room door and she thought they were both going to jump out of their skin.

"Hello," she said with a soft smile. "I just came down to offer my congratulations."

She shook hands with the mother and noticed a wide cuff on her wrist, but on the underside of that cuff she make out a hint of a black and blue bruise. Much like the one on her own arm. She then shook hands with Charlotte and noticed the little girl seemed to make herself cheerful.

"Thank you," the little girl told her.

"How old are you, Charlotte?" Claire asked.

"Ten," Charlotte said proudly.

"Well, you are a very talented girl. I can tell you're going places," Claire told her with a wink. "Lottie. Can I call you Lottie?"

Charlotte giggled and nodded. That giggle as actually genuine. "My mom calls me Lottie!"

"Well, makes sense. It suits you," Claire said with a gentle smile.

There was a bang on the back door and both Charlotte and Mrs. Henderson jumped again. This time Zac Henderson appeared through it.

"That's more like it!" he said excitedly. "I knew my little girl was a winner. All you needed to do was try a little harder. Right, Charlotte?"

"Yes, daddy," She said dutifully as her smile disappeared.

"Ms. Lanier," Henderson said as he acknowledged her with a nod. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be fixing up your…_charming_ little restaurant?"

"I was a judge for the competition," she informed him. "I just came by to offer my congratulations to your daughter and wife."

"They are quite the prizes, aren't they?" He asked Claire as he put an arm around his wife's waist and jerked her toward him.

"Very lovely," Claire said as she held back the rising bile in her throat. Prizes? Oh god, she hated him. He was just like every other man she'd met prior to Eliot Spencer. Women were objects, possessions, trophies. When they didn't meet his expectations he punished them. But the catch was, they could never meet his expectations.

Claire saw straight through him. Horrible, horrible man.

"Well," Claire said as she nodded at Charlotte and her mother. "Lottie, congrats on your win again and I should be going. I've got a restaurant to get back to."

"Bye, Ms. Lanier!" Charlotte said brightly. Mr. Henderson gave his daughter a sharp look and she immediately withered.

"Bye, Lottie," Claire said with a sad smile and a wink.

She exited the building and quickly pressed the com in her ear to turn it back on. "Guys, we've got something else to add to this bastard's list of crimes."

"_What_?" Eliot could be heard asking.

"Let's just say I'm not the only one Henderson has bruised this week."

_"I don't like the sound of that."_

"I wanted to take him down before," Claire said as she headed back toward the restaurant. "But now I want make sure he never gets back up. Think we can do that?"

_"Oh, we can definitely do that,"_ Nate said in a mischievous tone. _"What did you find out_?"

"He's got a wife and daughter. A ten year old daughter who wears a fake smile and a wife who wears sunglasses indoors. You tell me what you think that means."

_"Shit_," Eliot cursed over the coms.

"_What if she just likes sunglasses?" _Hardison asked.

"He referred to them both as 'prizes', Hardison. No, this man sees them as possessions. I know his type. Up close and personal," Claire said through gritted teeth.

"_This is a whole new ballgame, Nate. We've got more victims than we realized_," Eliot said worriedly.

_"We keep going with the plan we've got. We cross that bridge when we get to it_."

Claire rolled her eyes and pressed the com to turn it off. Cross that bridge when they get to it? Some priorities this Nate Ford had. Claire turned and headed for her truck instead. She couldn't listen to this anymore. They couldn't wait for whatever plan Nate had in mind. They needed to do something _now_. She wouldn't allow that little girl to—

She reached her truck and violently kicked the front tire. Her level of frustration required it. She wanted to punch Henderson but the truck would have to do for now. She leaned against the side of the truck rested her head against the window. This man owned half the town, this man was running the locals out of business, _this man_ treated people like play things. He was corrupt and violent and—

"Where you going, Lanier?" Eliot asked as he approached the truck from the direction of the restaurant.

"Cross that bridge when we get to it, Eliot?" She asked him with a glare as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Really?"

"Claire—"

"There's a little girl out there, Spencer, who's perfected the art of a fake smile. Not just any fake smile but a truly believable one. She's fucking _grifting._ She's _ten_. And we're just going to stand by and let that man kill her spirit before she's really even begun to live?" She asked him angrily.

"We jump on this now and he'll get out of it, Claire. You know that," Eliot said as he placed his hands on her shoulders and tried to sooth her. "He'll be out of jail by morning and he'll go after them harder. We need something that he can't lie his way out of. You and I both know jumping into this _right_ now will only escalate it. You _know_ that." He was repeating himself and talking softly and slowly. He needed her to hear him. He only did that when it was important.

She had closed her eyes while he was talking to take in his words. He was right. She knew he was right. God damn it, he was right. She hated it. It twisted and writhed in her stomach but he was right. She pulled away from the truck to lean into Eliot and felt him wrap his arms around her.

"I hate this," She said as angry tears collected in her eyes.

"Believe me, I do too."

He kissed her temple and rubbed her back.

"She's gonna grow up to be me. She's gonna grow up thinking the only way to avoid being hurt is to do the hurting and not really understand why it has to be that way. Or what she did to deserve any of it. She's gonna let it turn her into something mean and spiteful," Claire told him as she laid her head against his chest. "Someone who doesn't give a shit what happens to her because it's all downhill from here anyway."

"Claire," Eliot said softly as he pulled away slightly and forced her to look him in the eyes. "That's not gonna be this girl. We're gonna help her. We just need more time. We do this right then we can keep him away from her _for good_. We do this right and she'll never have to be afraid of him again. That's what we want. That's what _you_ want, isn't it?"

"Yes," she answered in a voice ragged with emotions. "He just gets under my skin. He's—He's—my stepfather. He's exactly like him, Eliot. He's Chapman, he's Moreau, he's…every man that has ever mistreated me in my entire life and I want him far away from my home. I want him gone for good."

"We're working on it," Eliot told her as he wrapped his arms tighter around her. "Let's go to the cottage for a bit, okay? Get out of here."

She rested her head against his chest again and nodded. "Okay."

"Look," Eliot said softly into her hair. "I know you don't want this girl to go through what you did, but if she's as strong as you are, darlin', she'll make it through."

"I hope so."

"Good," he told her. "Hope is a good place to start."

Eliot drove Claire back to the cottage where she showered and changed out of her painting clothes. She washed her face and pulled her hair back and as she came out of the bedroom she found Eliot staring at her with a strange smile on his face. She pulled the towel tighter around her self consciously as she approached him.

"What? What's wrong?"

He laughed. "Nothing's wrong. I just…I like seeing your face. No make up. Just your clean bare face. Your freckles, especially."

She smirked at him and rolled her eyes. "You like my frizzy hair and the dark circles under my eyes? I think you're being sentimental, Spencer. I didn't know you had that in you."

"Yeah, well, you twist me all around, Lanier."

"Same here, Shug," she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm different with you. A better sort of different, I think."

"You feeling any better?" He asked as he ran a gentle hand over her bruised arm.

"I'm feeling more composed," she said with a sigh. "Not sure that's any better. But it'll do for now. I'm sorry about earlier. I just-this guy he gets under my skin and to top it all off he's _here_ near my family. In my _hometown_. This place has always been safe from the type of men I've dealt with since I left here and now…"

"Now that world has been brought into this one," he said knowingly. "I get it and you don't have to apologize for confiding in me, Claire. I told you, if you need to talk I'm here. Coming home is a difficult thing on its own but you throw in this douche bag and I'm sure it makes it much more emotional. I came to find you at the truck because I could hear how upset you were and this thing that we have, whatever it is, means I want to be here for you. I want to help you. You just have to let me."

She leaned up on her toes and kissed him slowly with a thankful affection that was still new to him from her. She pulled away and maintained eye contact with him. "The same goes double for you, Mr. Takes-a-Bullet-and-Keeps-on-Ticking. You worry me sometimes. I know what your job is and I know who you are but the idea of you going back to your empty apartment in Boston beaten and bloody just—" she stopped and took a deep breath. "I'm here for you even if you just need somebody to help you nurse your wounds, got that? You big jerk," she said with a frustrated yet warm tone as she playfully smacked one of his arms that had wrapped around her.

He chuckled softly and nodded. "I got it."

She removed one arm from around his neck to place her hand over his heart. She'd done this several times before and he always wondered why. She stared at her hand as it covered his heart for a moment and then used her other hand on the back of his neck to pull his lips down to hers for a slow kiss. Today had been rough, but she was starting to remember what it was like to have someone you could count on.

And he was glad for that.


	33. Part Three, Chapter Nine: Interference

Ruthless Game

by angellwings

PART THREE: Brave &amp; Wild

* * *

Chapter Nine: Interference

* * *

They skipped the festivities that night. Kip was there, spreading the word about the restaurant, along with Claire's aunt and uncle. The paint job had been finished and so had the signage and photos. The place was ready to open the next day for lunch. So, they could take a night to stay in. Besides, Eliot was fairly certain Claire would physically fight Henderson if she saw him right now. Not that he wouldn't love to see her sock him in the jaw but that probably wasn't the best idea given their current job.

She'd pulled on his t-shirt she'd worn the night before and a pair of lacy underwear that just peaked out from behind. As much as she disagreed, this was how he liked her best. Open and honest and imperfect. The old TV in the bedroom of the cottage was playing whatever music videos CMT decided to play late at night and the light off the screen was lighting up the dark room. It bounced off of the walls and the furniture and Claire as she laid curled into his side on the bed. She had a hand over his heart and the other caught between them.

"Why do you do that?" Eliot finally asked as he tapped her hand that covered his heart.

"The rhythm of it…is soothing," she told him. "Steady, thumping, alive. You're always so dependable, Eliot. So…rooted in strength. Feeling your heart beat in your chest, lends me some of it and reminds me you're still here."

He reached a hand over and caressed her cheek. "Not leaving you behind ever again, Lanier."

"Don't say that," she told him with a shake of her head.

"Why not? It's true."

"Eliot, that's not what I want," she said with a sigh. "I love you and with the situations we find ourselves in a statement like that could be fatal. I'd rather you leave me behind than end up dead."

"Trust me, Claire, if I have anything to say about it neither of those things will happen," Eliot promised.

"Be careful with those lofty promises, Cowboy," Claire told him with a gentle smile.

"What?" He asked with a grin. "You wouldn't come for me if I were ever in trouble?"

"Oh no, I'd come for you. I'd come for you so fast I'd break the sound barrier," she told him as she placed a kiss to his jaw. "But I'm a grifter. If I'm doing my job your captors would let me in the front door. It'd be quiet and subtle and sneaky. You. You're a hitter. Loud and messy and more likely to end bloody. With just as much of your blood as theirs. There's no point in you coming for me if you don't make it out alive."

He thought about that for a moment and how logical that sounded. He shrugged and then nodded. "Okay, I see your point. Would it make you feel better if I brought back up?"

She chuckled and nodded. "Much. Somebody to keep you from getting yourself killed. Anybody."

"Deal," Eliot agreed.

"What do normal people talk about in bed, I wonder?" Claire asked him with a smirk.

Eliot chuckled. "No clue. Probably argue over what to watch on television or something."

"We've done that before," Claire told him with a chuckle. "Once."

"Yeah, when you were staying with me," he said thoughtfully. "Speaking of," Eliot said with a nervous gulp. "You plan on coming back anytime soon?"

She moved her hand from his chest to his chin and forced him to look at her. "Of course. I told you, I'm always gonna come back to you. I meant that. And you and I both know, the longer I stay here the more I put people in this town at risk. The plan was never to stay here long term."

"Do you have another job in mind after this?"

"No, not currently. Still have plenty of the pay out left from that last job. No rush to find another one."

"So, then where do you plan on staying after we're finished here?" He asked as he cleared his throat anxiously.

"Eliot," Claire said in amusement. "Just spit it out. What are you trying to ask me?"

"Half your stuff is already in my apartment," Eliot stated as he took a deep breath. "I'm accustomed to having you there. We've gotten used to sharing a bed—"

"Too used to sharing a bed. Do you know how hard it is to sleep without you?" Claire said as she interrupted him with a wink.

"Exactly," Eliot said with a nod. "So, with that in mind, I mean maybe you should just…move in."

He felt her tense against his side. "What?" She asked. "Move in? To your place? Officially?"

"Why not? You're already practically living with me when you're not on a job, aren't you?" He asked. He was concerned with the way she'd tensed up.

"I don't know, Eliot," she said with a furrowed brow. "I mean, we just started this _thing_ that we have and I've just gotten out from under Moreau. Would it be a good idea to jump right into that after…_him_? I—I don't know if I'm ready for that yet. Don't get me wrong, Sparky, I love you. I do. And I love being with you. You make me feel cared for and safe and…like a person instead of a possession. I haven't had that in a very long time. But I—it seems sudden to go from Moreau to…domesticity. Does that make sense?"

He was disappointed. He wouldn't lie. But he could see her point. She'd just gotten her freedom back plus she was still healing. She may not be ready for what he was asking of her. "It makes sense," he said as he kissed the top of her head. "The offer's always gonna be there, though. You just tell me when you're ready."

She nodded and snuggled further into him. "I can do that."

"You know what we should do when this job is over?" Eliot asked in an attempt to change the subject.

"What?" She asked as she rested her chin on his chest and glanced up at him.

"We should go camping. You and me, a river, a tent, and a fire."

She smiled warmly at him and then nodded. "I haven't been camping since I was a kid. Well, not unless you count sleeping in an abandoned car on the side of a dirt road in the Italian countryside. And I don't think you can."

Eliot chuckled. "Probably not. You on board?"

"Yeah," she said with a nod. "I could do with some alone time and a dose of nature when this is all said and done."

"Good," he said with a nod. "It's a done deal."

"Grandpa and Everette used to go camping all the time. I bet he still knows the best spots," Claire told him as she tried not to yawn. "You may want to ask him."

"Will do," Eliot told her. "You tired yet?" He asked with a grin.

This time she actually did yawn before she answered him. "Seems like it," she said with a sleepy chuckle.

"Sleep," he told her. "Tomorrow's a big day."

"Tomorrow we piss off Henderson more than we have so far," she said with a groggy grin as she buried her face in Eliot's chest and pulled the blankets up higher around her.

"That's right," Eliot said with a laugh. "Dream about ruining him."

She hummed happily as she closed her eyes. "Don't mind if I do."

He chuckled as she drifted off to sleep and held her tighter against him. She kept things interesting, that was for sure.

* * *

The next morning Claire took off early before Eliot had even woken up. She left a note saying Ada had asked her to take her niece and nephew to day camp. She said she also had to watch the store for Everette and that she'd meet him at the restaurant at eleven. He got up and got dressed with out checking the clock. Once he was ready to leave he glanced down at his watch with a frown.

He'd slept till 10:30? How the hell had that happened?

He rushed out the door with Claire's keys and raced down the gravel driveway toward the main road. He was late. At this rate, Claire would be there before him. His brow furrowed when he reached the main road and spotted smoke in the distance. The closer he got to the smoke, the closer he got to Lanier's Building Supply. His chest tightened when he came around the curve and spotted the smoke rising from the building. He sped into the parking lot and came to a jolting stop outside of the building.

Claire was supposed to be in there.

He tapped his comm to turn it on and then checked his phone. He had two missed calls from the last five minutes.

_"Eliot," _Hardison could be heard yelling into the comms.

"Shut up, man, I'm here. You talked to Claire?"

_"She was on comms and then she dropped off. She was at Lanier's and said she thought somebody was there with her and then I lost her—"_

"Shit," Eliot said as he jumped out the truck. "I'm here and there's smoke rising up out of the building, man. You got GPS on her?"

_"Yeah, she's still there_."

"Call the fire department. I'm going in," Eliot said with a growl.

Where ever the fire was it must have been smaller. He couldn't see any flames. He barged in the front door and bell rang overhead to indicate someone had entered. He continued through the front of the store and found no trace of Claire or anyone else. He stepped through to the back of the store where they kept the stock. The minute he stepped through the door someone charged him. He ducked down to hit the man running at him low and then stood up to flip him to the ground. He hit his head on the way down and the henchman was left unconscious.

Eliot rolled his eyes and then checked the man's pockets and jacket for his identification and any additional weapons. He found a gun and quickly unloaded it. He took it with him as he searched the rest of the back room and then went out toward the lumber yard. There was a dumpster on the way so he ditched the gun.

"Hardison, the rent a cop's name is Jameson. Willie Jameson."

_"Got it_. _Looking him up now."_

"Get the fuck away from me, you low life ass hat."

_"I think you found Claire_," Hardison said in a relieved and amused tone.

That's where he found the fire. The thug had spread gasoline around a pile of sawdust and discarded lumber and lit it on fire. It was close to the main building and would eventually ignite the whole place. They needed to put it out.

He also needed to get Claire away from Henderson's minion. He had his arms locked around Claire's waist and had pulled her back against him. Just as he was about charge them Claire kicked out which caused him to life her off the ground just enough for her to throw her weight back. The back of her head hit his and the man lost his balance. He fell to the ground and his grip around Claire loosened enough for her to break free.

Eliot grinned with pride as he watched her. She had it under control. He grabbed the hose behind him and unwound it before turning on the water and racing toward the fire. Claire had disappeared but when she came back she had a fire extinguisher. They both started dousing the fire at the same time. Once it was out, Eliot quickly disarmed the unconscious man on the ground.

"You alright?" Eliot asked as he tossed the gun and turned back around to face her.

"I'm fine," she answered quickly. "Did the fire spread anywhere else?"

"No," Eliot assured her as he gave her a once over for any injuries. "If you're so 'fine' then why the hell are you bleeding?" Eliot asked as he spotted the blood dripping down her upper arm.

"What?" She asked in surprise as she glanced down at her arm. "Shit, guy must have got me with his knife. It's shallow. No worries."

_"The fact that we work in a profession where someone can say that sentence and I'm actually relieved never ceases to terrify me."_

"Where's your comm?" Eliot asked as he resisted the urge to turn his off.

"It's still in," she told him. "I got hit upside the head and I think it broke."

_"Hell, nah, my comms do not break. Not unless one of those fools smacked her exceptionally har—you know what, never mind. Forget I mentioned it. They absolutely break, on occasion, sometimes, very rarely."_

Eliot could feel himself grinding his teeth and clenching his fists. "Hardison," he sneered through gritted teeth. "Tell me you have something on rent a cop."

"The other guy is Marty Jameson," she told him. "They're brothers. They made sure to point that out before the running started."

"They say anything about _why_ they came after you?" Eliot asked her. He could feel the rest of him tensing up.

"It was intimidation, Spencer. You know how these things go. They never say more than they have to. But I think we can both guess," Claire said with a sigh. "They gave me a very vague 'it's best you get out of town.' speech."

_"The Jameson Brothers, found them. Man, these are some bad dudes. They're local though. Enforcers. Never see them heading any further south than Georgia or any further north than West Virginia."_

"The type of guys that are professional enough to not implicate Henderson in any small way," Eliot said with a huff. "There's got to be some link between them."

_"Working on it_," Hardison told him. _"The two of you are late. You were supposed to meet Kip twenty minutes ago."_

Claire took out her broken comm and pocketed it. "We're late," Claire reminded him. "Kip's probably waiting."

_"See, I told you_."

"Shut up, Hardison," Eliot said before he looked over at Claire. "I'm less concerned about Kip and more concerned about you. We need to do something about that cut and I want to take a good look at you too. First you said you were fine and now there's a bleeding cut and a hit upside the head."

"Eliot—"

"Claire."

She rolled her eyes and sighed in resignation. "Fine."

"You know, you really don't have to be such a handful," Eliot grumbled.

"If I weren't, you'd be bored," Claire said with a smirk and a chuckle. "You know you like it."

"Yes, I do like it," Eliot admitted. "But only when it doesn't make me worry about you. Which is all the time. So really I don't like it."

"You worry about me?" Claire asked with a scoff. "Eliot, I worry about _you_ all the time. I never know if you're going to come back from any given job. Sometimes, the shoe _has_ to be on the other foot, Spencer. You'll have to deal with it."

When she put it like that how could he do anything else?


	34. Part Three, Chapter Ten: Grand Opening

Chapter Ten: Grand Opening

On Claire's insistence they headed to the restaurant first before Eliot addressed the cut on her arm and the bruising that had started to show on the side of her face. He was pissed. He knew intimidation was coming but he'd thought he'd be right there with her when it happened. He underestimated Henderson's cowardice.

He'd parked in the back alley behind the restaurant and sat Claire on the tailgate while he bandaged her arm. She was massaging the right side of her face and moving her jaw to test how hard those idiots had hit her. The bruising was starting to show around her temple and her ear.

"How's it look?" She asked him.

"Like I should have been there."

"Eliot, stop," Claire said with a sigh as she removed her damaged comm from her ear. "I've had worse. I'm fine. See?" She said as she placed a hand under his chin and lifted his eyes to meet hers. "I'm right here. Bruises and cuts got nothing on me, Cowboy."

He sighed and nodded as he finished the bandage on her arm.

"So, how's it look?" Claire asked again.

He reached up and gently moved her hair out from behind her ear so that her red waves fell softly over the side of her face. "Can't even tell now."

She nodded and then leaned forward and kissed Eliot slowly. As he returned the kiss his hands carefully wrapped around her wrists if only to verify the strength of her pulse. She was there in front of him, kissing him, but somehow it wasn't enough. He needed something else to assure him. She was comforted by a hand on his chest and he found himself comforted by the steady thumping in her wrists. She _really was_ fine. She was alive and there with him.

She pulled away from the kiss and settled a warm smile on him. "Feel better now?" She asked as she closed her hands around his wrists. His hands still held her wrists as he nodded.

"Good, because now we have to go in there and open this restaurant," she told him. She moved to hop down of the tailgate but he lifted her and helped her down instead. "Can I borrow your jacket?" she asked as she tugged on the zip hoodie he was wearing over his short sleeved t-shirt. "I probably should cover up my arm."

"Of course," he told her as he took it off and handed it to her. She quickly put it on and pushed the sleeves up to the elbows.

"Let's do this," she said before she looped her arm through his and pulled him in the back door of the restaurant.

"Hey, where you been?" Kip asked as the door opened. "I heard the fire department was called out to Lanier's. They found a smoking pile of lumber. Anybody hurt?"

"No," Eliot answered with a huff. "Thankfully."

"I was the only person there," Claire informed him. She sounded grateful which, given who could have been there instead of her, both Eliot and Kip understood.

"I'm assuming it was you-know-who?" Kip said as he finished preparing the coleslaw.

"We can't prove it," Eliot grumbled. "Not yet, anyway."

_"We will_," Hardison offered over comms. _"We'll prove it_. _I'm sending Parker to you with a replacement comm for Claire."_

"We can't worry about it now," Claire told him. "We've got half an hour till we open at noon. I'm going to check on the dining area and make sure we're ready to go."

Kip and Eliot nodded as she walked away.

"She's seems okay," Kip said observantly.

"She is."

"But you're not," Kip told him.

Eliot gave him a questioning glance. "How did you—"

"You look like a man on fire, hoss," Kip said with a sympathetic grin.

"I was asleep," Eliot said with a shake of his head. "While she was being attacked I was sleeping in. I never sleep in and the one time that I do—"

"This didn't happen because you slept in, tough guy," Kip said with a chuckle. "Don't give yourself that much credit."

_"Listen to the man, Eliot."_

Eliot really needed Hardison out of his ear.

* * *

Eliot had a to-go order ready when Parker walked through the door right as the restaurant opened. She and Claire did a hand off of the food in exchange for the new earpiece. Not even ten minutes after that the dining area was full and there was a queue for to go order pick ups. Claire and Kip seemed to think it had less to do with the food and more to do with the town wanting to stick it to Henderson.

But by the time the dinner rush came around it seemed to be more about the food. Nate and Sophie were relaying how pissed Henderson was and Parker was telling them that the buzz among the Festival staff was that the barbecue was better than anything the town had had in months.

The line for both here and to go orders stretched down the block by the time the dinner rush was in full swing.

"This is insane," Claire told Eliot as she packed up another to-go order and then ladled the signature sauce in a small to go cup.

"You'd think these people had never had North Carolina Barbecue before," Eliot said with a smirk.

"Not in nearly a year, we haven't," the customer Claire was ringing up told them both. "Thanks for bringing this place back. We missed it."

The customer left without giving them a chance to speak but both Claire and Eliot exchanged a knowing glance. If they hadn't pissed Henderson off enough already then this would definitely do it.

"We got a problem," Kip said urgently as he came into the dining area from the kitchen.

"Please tell me there's no fire," Claire said with a huff.

Kip laughed. "No, it's not the restaurant. Caitlyn backed out of her set on the main stage."

Claire's eyes widened. "She's the 8:00 o'clock set."

"They want me to fill in," Kip told her.

"Good! It's about time you took the stage," Claire said with a smirk. "You write enough and produce enough and, lord knows, you're rich enough. This should be cake."

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Eliot asked in confusion.

"Kip, here, is an award winning song writer and producer. Spends half the year in Nashville and half here," Claire answered. "He's been asked to play the main set tonight and he's chicken."

"I'm not chicken," Kip said with a roll of his eyes.

"Prove it," Claire challenged.

"Fine, but only if you're up there with me," Kip told her.

Claire looked genuinely startled. "What? Me? Why?"

"Now who's chicken?" Kip asked her with a challenging grin.

"I'm not. I'm just…I haven't performed in a long time, Kip," she said with a sigh.

"And I haven't since I got my first publishing deal like 8 years ago," he told her. "We're on a level playing field here, Red. You perform, I perform. Otherwise, I'm out."

"That's blackmail," Claire said with a playful glare.

"Yes, it is. Is it working?" Kip asked with a chuckle.

"Fine," Claire said with a huff. "You win. I'll perform with you."

"Good," Kip said as he nudged her shoulder. "We have an hour to come up with a set list."

"Yeah, this isn't a horrible tragic idea at all," Claire said sarcastically as Kip went back to start cleaning the kitchen. Claire let the last few customer's in and then locked the door behind them.

"You'll be fine," Eliot said with a small encouraging grin. "You know you will be."

"No, I don't, Spencer," Claire told him. "I haven't sung on a big stage in, _god_, nine years. That's too long."

They both had to get back to work so the subject was temporarily dropped. For the rest of the night Claire could be caught humming various songs on and off. Eliot assumed she was trying to put together a set list. When they finally got everyone out of the restaurant, she and Kip had twenty minutes to finalize the list and rush toward the grandstand stage. Eliot quickly finished cleaning and counting the register and then headed toward the Grandstand himself to watch.

He got there just in time to hear their introduction and see them take the stage. He glanced around the crowd and found Henderson toward the back of the crowd. Again, Eliot did not like the look he had focused on Claire. It was predatory.

Claire saw him too. He could tell by the slight way she tensed. As quick as it happened she relaxed and her gaze focused on his. She smirked and winked at Henderson with a defiant glance.

"Alright, guys, Kip and I are filling in for Caitlyn tonight so you'll have to forgive us if you hear a bunch of covers. We're gonna make sure y'all have a good time, though. I have no doubt you can all sing along to each and every one of these songs," Claire said as she glanced around the crowd. "Our first song tonight, is very special to me. To all you women out there, you ever wanted a song that made you feel like you could kick ass and take names? Well, this is that song for me because I can assure you folks, you ain't seen me crazy yet," Claire said with as she through another wink at Henderson. The crowd cheered as the intro started. "This is Miranda Lambert's _Gunpowder and Lead_, enjoy."

_"__County road two thirty-three under my feet  
Nothin' on this white rock but little ol' me  
I've got two miles till he makes bail  
And if I'm right, we're headed straight for hell_

_I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun  
Wait by the door, and light a cigarette  
If he wants a fight, well, now he's got one  
And he ain't seen me crazy yet  
He slapped my face, and he shook me like a rag doll  
Don't that sound like a real man?  
I'm going to show him what little girls are made of  
Gunpowder and lead._

_Well, it's half past ten, another six-pack in  
And I can feel the rumble like the cold black wind  
He pulls in the drive, the gravel flies  
He don't know what's waiting here this time_

_Yeah, I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun  
Wait by the door, and light a cigarette  
If he wants a fight, well, now he's got one  
And he ain't seen me crazy yet  
He slapped my face, and he shook me like a rag doll  
Don't that sound like a real man?  
I'm going to show him what little girls are made of  
Gunpowder and lead_

_His fist is big, but my gun's bigger  
He'll find out when I pull the trigger."_

Eliot smirked proudly. He had to hand it to Claire, she was the bravest shit kicker he'd ever known. Eliot found Henderson in the crowd again and he could honestly say he'd never seen any man's face look quite so red. There was a large, rough looking man, standing next to Henderson and Eliot kept an eye on him as Henderson gave him an order and the larger man walked away.

Eliot pressed his comm to turn it on. "Nate, something's going down. Henderson just ordered his man away."

"Follow him," Nate ordered. "We'll keep an eye on Claire."

Eliot nodded. "On it."

Eliot followed the man all the way to their restaurant.

"Hardison, call the cops," Eliot demanded. "This guy's up to no good."

_"On their way,"_ Hardison answered.

The man had a brick in one hand and was set to throw it through their window when Eliot appeared and blocked his arm to prevent his throw.

"Not on my watch, Bubba," Eliot said as he punched the larger man in the stomach. He hit him hard in the solar plexus. The man crumpled to the ground the brick fell with a clatter. There was a crash from the back alley and Eliot quickly ran around to find another large man trying to smash the lock on the back door.

"Come on, man," Eliot said with a huff. "That's a metal door and metal lock. You're not gonna force it open with a rock. You should have gone around front to help your buddy."

The man immediately dropped the large rock and hopped in the truck he'd come in. Eliot raced forward and opened the driver's side door before it could be locked. He pulled the man out and slammed him onto the concrete.

"Who hired you, man?" Eliot asked as sirens could be heard in the distance.

"No one. Just a concerned citizen," the guy said with a chuckle.

"Nah, you're just a guy who got caught trespassing and breaking and entering," Eliot told him.

"Yeah, I guess you'd better be glad you caught me and not your wife, huh?" the man asked. "Not sure she could take much more of a beating, though I'd be happy to try."

Eliot's jaw tensed and he felt his teeth grinding.

_"Eliot, he's just trying to rile you up, man. Let it go,"_ Hardison urged him over comms.

Eliot glared at the man and punched him across the jaw as hard as he could…twice. _Just in case._

"Hardison, keep eyes on Claire," Eliot told him. "Do _not_ let her out of your sight."

_"Already on it,"_ Hardison told him.


	35. Part 3, Chapter Eleven: Confrontation

Chapter Eleven: Confrontation

The next morning Hardison finally had enough of a break form the Henderson job to continue his research of Latimer. Currently, he was following the money. He'd told Nate he'd found a suspicious wire transfer leaving Jack Latimer's account and going overseas. He didn't know who the overseas account belonged to. The IDs were faked. Not nearly as good as his own work and but better than he thought Latimer would know to obtain. It was safe to assume the account wasn't Latimer's.

Nate told him to trace it back. It got a little tricky at times as the amount changed every year or so as did the account the funds were transferred to. After tracking the money obsessively over the years he'd finally reached, what he thought had to be, a break. In the mid 1990s the deposit was going to an American bank account. Just a quick scan told him the deposit didn't start in 1995, that was just the last year it went to a US account. He was amazed at how long this transaction had been going on. He found the account and routing number for the US account and looked it up. It had long been closed but it wouldn't take much to find the owner on the account…

He froze when the name appeared before him. His hand stilled over the wireless mouse attached to his laptop and he couldn't believe his eyes. Was it a coincidence? Could someone else have that name? Live in this town?

"What. The. Hell."

He pulled out his book bag and dropped the piles of folders on the bed next to him. He knew he had it in here. He flipped through the folders until he found the one he wanted. He had several profiles started on people the team had come into contact with. He opened the folder and flipped to the first page.

_Name: Claire Rosemary Lanier._

_Born: August 22nd, 1984_

_Parents: Veronica Jo Lanier (Mother), Father unknown_

There it was. The name he was looking for.

Veronica Jo Lanier. The transactions he'd found in 1995 were sent to an account in her name at a local bank. Lexington State Bank. Latimer was sending money to Claire's mother? Why and for how long? Hardison tapped his comm to turn it off and then called Nate. He didn't answer. No surprise considering how late he and Sophie had been out with Henderson the previous night. He left a vague voicemail for Nate to call him back and made it clear he needed him off of comms.

While he waited for Nate to call him back he continued his research. He should have recognized the earlier aliases. The foreign account that followed the US account had names that were similar to the aliases Veronica Lanier had used for her and Claire in Texas. He'd found that last bit of information during Claire's most recent absence. Everyone else in this town believed Veronica had taken Claire to L.A. to pursue superstardom, but that had not been the case. The only explanation he had for missing it was that he was tired. Very tired.

Upon giving it all a second look, it seemed the money followed Veronica Lanier where ever she went until she fell off the grid around the end of 1996. But this trail meant, he could find her again. Veronica Lanier was no longer off the grid. This one clue had put her back in Hardison's reach. He set aside tracing Veronica form 1996 onward and went back to tracing back Latimer's deposits into her account. He needed to know when they began. Finally, he found the first deposit.

It occurred in 1983 just five months before Claire was born. Hardison was a smart guy. It didn't take him long to put two and two together.

"Holy shit," he muttered to himself just before his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and recognized Nate's number. An impatient Nate answered in a huff.

"What is it, Hardison?"

Impatient Nate didn't faze Hardison anymore. He continued as if he didn't notice. "You are never going to believe what I just found."

* * *

Later that morning they all met up at the cottage Eliot and Claire were staying in. Claire immediately noticed Hardison couldn't look her in the eye. That was odd. Eliot gave him a strange glance so Claire knew he'd noticed too.

"Anybody come back to vandalize the restaurant last night?" Nate asked Eliot.

"No, I think Henderson knew better than to try twice in one night," Eliot answered.

"Henderson left me a livid voicemail last night," Sophie told them as she handed Hardiosn her phone so he could transfer the message. "Was the song and the wink really necessary, Claire?"

Sophie gave her a pointed disapproving glance but Claire merely smirked proudly in response. "Absolutely." Parker grinned at her and held out her fist for a fist bump. Claire obliged with an amused expression.

"No, this is good," Nate said suddenly. "He's angry. He's more likely to make a mis-step." He smirked just as Claire had a moment ago. "This will work, Hardison—"

"Huh? What?" Hardison asked in a panic. "I don't know anything. Nothing at all."

Eliot smacked him upside the head, lightly. "What the hell is wrong with you, man? Pay attention."

Nate gave him a meaningful glance. "Focus, Hardison." Claire tried not to furrow her brow. There was a hidden meaning there. Sophie shifted slightly and Claire knew she'd seen it too.

"Right, my bad," Hardison said as he cleared his throat nervously.

"The men from last night, can we connect them to Henderson?' Nate asked the young man.

"Not in any way that will hold up in court," Hardison answered.

"Okay, so we get him to skip the middle man," Nate announced. "Claire, you push his buttons like no one else. Do you think you could make him so furious that he would act on that _himself_?"

Claire chuckled and thought, not for the first time, how much these people had to learn aabout her. "Pissing off power tripping assholes is my specialty."

Eliot grinned and shook his head at her.

"Good, let's use that," Nate said thoughtfully. "What's the best way to escalate our situation?"

"Well, he encroached on our space," Claire said with an eager smile. "Let's return the favor. Hardison, in all those marketing materials you had printed up, you wouldn't happen to have any fliers, would you?"

"Got a box of about 500 ready to go," he answered.

"Perfect. Let's go launch a ground marketing campaign," Claire told the group as she rolled up her sleeves and placed a hat with the restaurant's logo on her head.

She looked ready for things to get serious.

* * *

"You sure this is a good idea?" Eliot asked as he parked in the public lot across from Henderson's restaurant.

"No," Claire answered with a grin. "But I think it's gonna be fun."

"You would," Eliot said with a chuckle and dry smirk.

"Okay," she said as she grabbed a stack of fliers and straightened her hat. "According to Hardison's map, that tiny corner next to his restaurant sign is public property so I can stand there, pass out flyers, and not be trespassing."

"Turn on your comm. I'm gonna keep my eye on you but I'd like to hear too. Just in case," he told her sternly.

She smiled and nodded before kissing him soundly on the mouth. She pulled away like it was nothing, tapped her comm to turn it on, and then practically skipped across the street. Yeah, she was enjoying this far too much.

Nate had pulled Parker aside for something as they left so he had a feeling he and Claire were the distraction for whatever Parker's portion of the plan was. Claire immediately got to work handing out fliers and talking to Henderson's customers. He quirked a brow as she flirted with a group of young college age men who passed by. To get their attention she barely had to do anything more than flip her hair to have the young men totally in her sway. She continued like that and won over everyone she spoke to, both men and women. A handful even went back to their cars and then drove off in the direction of their restaurant a few blocks away.

God, she was impressive.

It only took a few more minutes for a pair of pretty hostesses to approach her. She showed them the map Hardison had given her and smiled her most non-threatening Southern farm girl smile. He'd seen her use it before. It was powerful. Barely five minuntes after they'd approached they headed back toward the restaurant with a friendly wave.

Another few minutes passed, resulting in even more customers leaving at Claire's advice. This time, two men, who were much more intimidating than the hostesses, came out to talk to her. But Claire charmed them anyway. She smiled and batted her eyelashes and repeatedly ran her hands through her hair. Once she even adjusted her shirt as if her bra was bothering her. Both sets of eyes instinctually moved downward to her chest and Eliot rolled his eyes. She knew her assets and she used them well. It occurred to him that he should be bothered by watching her flirt so obviously with other men. But he wasn't. Not in the slightest.

He realized then that despite his worries she wouldn't come back to him one day, he wasn't afraid she'd choose someone else over him. He was confident in her feelings for him and her regard for him. He didn't doubt it. He was surprised by that revelation. He'd spent his life since becoming whatever he was now believing he wasn't worthy of something serious or important so he'd jumped from date to date and never bothered to stick around for very long. He wasn't doing that now. Things were different with Claire. For once, he was ready for the next step before his partner. Not only that, be he was confident in who she'd be going home with at the end of the day. So confident that watching her flirt with other men merely amused and impressed him. No man could resist, Claire, and he couldn't blame them one bit.

The two larger men waved at her dismissively when she started to step away from her spot by the sign. They were telling her not to worry about it. He could tell based on their body language. They then turned and headed back into the restaurant. That shouldn't have worked, but oddly enough it did. He really should have brought along some popcorn. Watching Claire work was better than a movie any day.

The next person to leave the restaurant caused every muscle in Eliot's body to tense. He sat forward in his seat to watch Claire and Henderson more carefully than he had the others. He had one hand on the door handle, prepared to run to her if he had to.

* * *

"Just the man I've been waiting for," Claire said with a bright smile as Henderson approached. "You really should have just saved me the effort and come out first."

"You're on private property, Mrs. Chapel," Henderson said with a forced politeness.

"Actually, I'm not," she said as she held out the map. "This little three foot plot is public property I can be here all I want."

"You're being disruptive to my business. I wonder what the deputies would have to say about that?" He asked with a smarmy grin.

"Oh yes, do call them, I'm curious too," She said as she took of Eliot's borrowed hoodie and tied it around her waist, displaying her bruised left arm and her right stitched up arm. "I wonder what they would say if I told them who gave me this bruise? And what their reaction would be when the size of it matched your hand exactly? Let's find out. What do you think?" She asked as she pulled out her phone and started to dial 9-1-1.

Henderson reached out and grabbed her wrist. His hand was touching the same spot Eliot's had just the day before when he'd unnecessarily checked her pulse. Eliot's hand on her wrist was a lot gentler than Henderson's hand on her wrist. The pressure he applied was uncomfortable but it didn't hurt. Even if it did, she knew better than to react. Reacting gave him power. Nothing pissed off men like Henderson more than withholding power they thought they deserved. She gave him a cool glance and smirked. "So that's a no to the deputies, then?" She asked.

She heard a car door a few feet away. Customers, she thought as she remembered they were standing in front of his restaurant's parking lot. She'd let her awareness of their location slip when he approached. Her focus on watching his reactions took precedent. She nodded toward the approaching foot steps. "You should let go of me if you don't want your customers alerted to your _true_ nature, Mr. Henderson. I'm sure you're aware, but there's nothing more powerful than the scream of an innocent woman. I'm sure you hear them all the time in the privacy of your own home."

Until now she'd only heard Eliot chuckling through the comm which had been reassuring and strangely empowering, especially when flirting with other men. The fact that her ability to successfully seduce and flirt didn't bother Eliot in the least was part of his appeal. But now he was alternating between silence and a wince here and there. He knew she was supposed to push him over the edge but every insult she hurled at Henderson, every taunt, caused Eliot to wince in her ear. He was paying close attention and waiting for his moment to attack, she knew.

Henderson scoffed and released her. "You really are infuriating. The most irreverent, disrespectful _female_ I have ever met," he spat as if the words burned his tongue. "It's a shame that husband of yours will never break you like you deserve."

There was complete silence from Eliot, but if it was possible she could _hear_ his muscles tense through the comms. She knew it wasn't but she knew Eliot and she knew how that line would effect him. But it didn't bother Claire. Not in the least. It was not, by a long shot, the most insulting thing a man had ever said to her.

She laughed. "Many have tried to break me, meaner bastards than you even, but none of them ever did. You would never even come _close_ to breaking me. You're pathetic compared to other men I've met. Yet you foolishly believe you're so powerful. It's sad, really."

His hand curled into a fist and he inched closer to her. "Watch your mouth, woman," he said slowly. For a brief moment the rage in his eyes startled her. But that moment was gone quickly and in it's place was encouragement. He was teetering on the edge of totally losing it. He need one final shove.

She chuckled and placed her hands on her hips. She visibly relaxed her muscles as much as her body and her emotions would allow. He could not know that he worried her. He needed to feel as though his physically intimidating presence barely registered with her. She lowered her voice and purposefully put on her thickest southern drawl. "Sugar darlin, are people actually threatened by all this peacocking you do?" Her tone was patronizing as she continued with a wide grin and an amused expression. "Well, bless your _little _heart," She said as she briefly glanced down to his pelvis. Implying something she knew would crawl under his skin and cause a reaction he couldn't control.

She heard Eliot curse, he knew what was coming just as much as she did. He also knew she'd purposefully provoked it. Claire heard two more car doors close behind her and smiled triumphantly just as Henderson raised his flattened hand and backhanded her across the face.

_God damn, that hurt_, she cursed inwardly as the force of his slap turned her head and nearly spun her around. She touched the side of her face and wiped the blood from her lip.

A few feet away and gasp and startled cry could be heard and Claire knew it was the customers Henderson hadn't been paying any attention to. He'd seen red and couldn't hold back.

"John, call the police!" The older woman yelled as she glared at Henderson.

Henderson's eyes widened as he realized what he'd done and just where he'd done it. He turned to try and initiate a bit of damage control but it was clear the elderly couple wasn't going to believe anything he said to them. It was too late. The woman's husband, apparently named John, dialed 9-1-1 as Claire had threatened to do earlier. Henderson took a step toward the couple but Eliot appeared out of no where. His breathing was labored and she had a feeling he'd run across the street.

"You," Eliot sneered at Henderson as he stood between him and the couple. "Stay right where you are."

"Are you okay, sugar?" The woman asked in gentle concern.

Claire put on her best shocked and wounded expression and forced tears to well up in her eyes, but didn't respond verbally.

"Oh, you poor thing," the woman said as she walked to Claire and wrapped her arms around her protectively. "Don't you worry about a thing, he won't go near you anymore." The woman's glare turned on Henderson and her tone sharpened. "You should be ashamed of yourself, you pig!"

Eliot made his way to Claire other side and the woman passed her over to him. Eliot placed a hand under her chin and turned her face from side to side to get a look at her. His eyes were a storm of emotions. There was anger, concern, relief, and frustration and those were just the emotions that regarded _her_. He was furious with her. She knew that. She expected that. For the sake of her compassionate witnesses Claire began to sob. Eliot played along. He knew she wasn't bothered by the slap and that, she was certain, was part of the frustration she'd read in his eyes.

Crocodile tears were the first thing her mother taught her to do extremely well. _"A crying woman is the ultimate weakness for any mark," _she'd said. She had issues with her mother but she'd been right about that at the very least.

Henderson glared at her but kept his mouth shut as sirens wailed in the distance.

Though Eliot may not be happy with her, Nate seemed proud and pleased.

_"Job well done, Claire. Very impressive,"_ Nate said over comms. Eliot tensed as he held her and she knew Nate's approval angered him even more.

Sure the slap had hurt and she'd lucked out with the witnesses, but in her mind the end justified the means. She'd rattled him. He'd lost his cool façade. It was a victory and it felt amazing.

_"Now," _Nate said with a delighted tone. _"We finish him off_."


	36. Part Three, Chapter Twelve: Resolution

Chapter Twelve: Resolution

"What the hell were you thinking?" Eliot asked her in a raised voice once they were back in her truck and on their way home. She'd never heard him yell until now. It made her wince.

They'd stayed for the cops and made their statements as had the elderly couple. Henderson had been taken away in handcuffs but he wouldn't be held for long. He'd already been demanding his lawyer as the deputy had placed him in the back seat.

"I was thinking that getting him to act out would make him more eager to take matters into his own hands," Claire explained. "We push him to betray himself to the people in town and he gets so unreasonably furious that he can't stand the thought of hiring someone else to run us out of town. It's _personal_ now for him, Eliot. That was what I was supposed to do, wasn't it? Push his buttons."

They'd both turned their comms off after they'd gotten into the truck and Claire was glad for that.

"Yes, push his buttons not incite violence. Do you realize what could have happened if that couple hadn't been there? There was no one else in the parking lot and I was across the street. If they hadn't been there to stop him at one slap, Lanier, he could have killed you. As a man with a few anger issues myself, I recognized the body language. He was prepared to keep going. The slap was just the beginning!" Eliot yelled with a shake of his head. "That whole interaction was reckless and I knew it would be. I should have gone with you."

"No, you shouldn't have. Because you would have been the one beating _him_ had you done that, Spencer. You'd be the one in handcuffs right now. The way he spoke to me would have provoked you into action. We both know it," Claire said with a sigh.

"Is this how you were on that mysterious job with Shelley? Did you throw yourself into the fight with him too?" Eliot asked as he avoided looking at her. He didn't acknowledge she was right. He didn't need to.

"Shelley, trusts my opinions on what I can and can't handle unlike _some people_," she muttered in an irritated tone. "You know, you were right across the street, Eliot. I knew that. You were watching and waiting. You were on your way over as soon as that slap started. If that couple hadn't walked up I would have been fine. I knew you had my back. You were there impossibly fast as it was anyway."

"Yeah, but Claire, we don't work together all the time," he said in a softer voice. "I'm worried this had nothing to do with you knowing I was across the street, that I had your back. I'm worried that you did that for the rush, for the win, and if that's the case—what happens when you're on your next job and your risk for the victory backfires? What happens if Shelley can't get to you in time?"

"What happens if you're not there?" She asked him knowingly.

"I know, you want to do this on your own and you don't want me become too involved but, darlin, when you do things like this it terrifies me," he admitted. "I know you well enough to anticipate when you might do it, but Tara and Shelley…I'm not trying to be over protective and control you when I worry like this. You know that, don't you? You're impulsive, and competitive, and _damn it_ if you don't get joy out of ticking people off and while I admire those things about you a majority of the time the rest of the time they scare me to death. You promised me you'd come back to me and I just want to make sure you can keep that promise. Does that make sense?" He asked with a furrowed brow as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. Emotions and urges like this were foreign to him. They weren't once upon a time, when he was a kid. But after years of inflicting violence and pain, concern on this level was practically brand new. He worried about his crew, yes, but the worry he felt for Claire was almost too much.

They were almost back to the cottage and the roads had become less populated two lane roads with farmland on either side. Silence fell over them and he thought that would be the end of the conversation. Until Claire spoke up softly.

"Pull over," she told him.

"What?" He asked. He wasn't quite sure he heard her correctly.

"Pull over," she repeated. He gave her a questioning glance but did as she asked and pulled over into the field to his right.

He parked the car and started to ask Claire just what she was doing when suddenly she was straddling him. It couldn't have been comfortable, he thought, but she was doing it. She kissed him deeply and slowly but it wasn't a kiss of need or passion and it wasn't one that was going to go much further. But he could feel her remorse in it. He could feel her own concern for him and even more than that, he could feel how deeply she cared about him. It seemed impossible but there it was. One kiss became two and then three and he sunk into it and let his hands rest on her hips. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and she had leaned most of her weight against him. His hands then moved from her waist to her thighs, that were mostly bare thanks to the tiny sorts she'd put on that morning. And then her hands moved to cup the sides of his face. Finally, she pulled away and met his eyes.

"You're right," she admitted. "I went too far. I know I did. But I don't think you really understand…violence has been a part of my life since mom and I left this town. Abuse in almost every form found me constantly. I'd come close to escaping it but I never really would. It sought me out. Moreau broke bones, you know that, but he wasn't the first. In all of those cases, it damaged me permanently. It caused pain and hurt and—" she stopped talking to blink back tears that had pooled in her eyes. "It made me selfish and callous and weak. This was all before Moreau even touched me, before you. It's the last thing I would ever want anyone else to experience. I wouldn't wish any of my scarring on another person. I adapted, yes. I internalized and used it. But not every one can do that. Not everyone can let themselves become someone else to escape it."

"You don't have to live with that anymore," Eliot told her. Thinking maybe she believed the violence had become a part of her the way he did.

"If my living with it, prevents someone else from being scarred by it then yes, I do. I'd rather take a beating for the purpose of exposing the truth than risk an innocent person taking that beating instead. If I can take on the pain for those who don't deserve it then I will," she told him. "I'm used to it. I have a tolerance. Someone else might not. So, while I know it drives you crazy and I know it causes you to worry it's probably not going to stop. I have these scars already, Eliot. I might as well use them. If that's too much for you, then I get it. I really do. When I came back to Boston that one weekend to the sight of you so thoroughly beaten I felt like I'm sure you do now. I didn't want to leave you. I didn't want you out of my sight and for a brief time I resented your crew for letting that happen. While I was here and you were with them I worried all the time, it's why I didn't contact you as much as you probably wanted. The less I knew about your jobs, the better. My imagination would run wild anytime you talked about it."

She was right, he hadn't understood. She removed her hands from his face and placed them on his chest. She placed both just over his heart and then smiled warmly at him.

"I love you, Eliot, you're the only person, other than my uncle and grandparents, who's ever made me feel that I'm more, that I'm a person and not property and that my value doesn't lie in how attractive I am. You make me feel like it matters who _I_ want to be. You make me feel…cared for and, as much as I complain about it, protected. Without you, I really don't know what I would do. If you're feeling any tiny bit of that right now then I understand and I'm sorry if I scared you. I just want to make sure that when we take this guy down, _he stays down_." Those last three words had been said with such fire and determination that Eliot had a feeling it was more of a promise than a statement. Her eyes were still watery with unshed tears and he felt her breathing heavier than normal. Both signs that she was barely holding back her sadness and desperation. He could hear it in the emotion in her voice, she was begging him to understand.

And now that she explained herself, he found he did.

Eliot brought a hand to her cheek and gently caressed the side of her face that had been hit twice in one week before he spoke. "

You know, it's funny, we have completely different jobs and yet we seem to approach them the exact same way." His voice was gentle and quiet, the opposite of how this conversation had started. "I'm the guy that protects my crew because I know how to take the beatings. I know how to give 'em, ain't no body questioning that, but if it comes to it I'm the one that takes the punches and the bullets because I know _how_. I've done it for so long that it barely fazes me anymore. The others, they're not as accustomed to that as I am and I don't want them to be. I don't want them to be so familiar with pain that they can break a rib or two and keep on going. The best way to prevent that is for me to take the blows myself. It's what I do. Yeah, you're a grifter and I'm a hitter, but in that respect we're the same, you and me. I didn't realize that until just now. Not until you told me. I can't say I'm crazy about it. I want you safe and whole and to keep you around as long as I can, but I understand it now. It's not as frustrating or as frightening as it was earlier today. I'm probably still going to be aggravated anytime you do it, _but I do understand_. I don't like it, but I think I can live with it."

She smiled slowly and then leaned in for another long kiss. This one communicated relief and hope and all the things he knew she hadn't had much of in recent years. Or maybe ever, based on what he knew of her past so far. When she pulled back she rested her forehead against his. "If you can live with that then I guess I can live with you being _a bit_ protective. It's actually really hot sometimes."

"Yeah?" He asked with an amused grin.

"Do not let that go to your head, Cowboy. The keyword is _sometimes_," she said with a chuckle.

He smirked and gently pushed her hair off of her shoulders. "Got it. I love you too," he said as he realized he never said it back to her earlier. "By the way."

She beamed at him and then kissed him again, more briefly this time. "Well, that's a relief," she said with a teasing wink. She moved off of his lap and back to her seat and he found that he missed her. She was right there next to him but he had been quite comfortable with her so completely taking up his space.

"We should go," she told him. "We need to be back in town for the Festival tonight."

Just like that, the day moved on. He pulled back on to the road and when they reached the cottage Claire sprinted for the shower, stating she needed to get any trace of Henderson off of her as quickly as possible. He didn't blame her for that.

An hour later they were both cleaned up and ready for the Festival when a crash and a scream could be heard outside. Claire was immediately alert.

"That came from the main house," she said just before she sprinted out the cottage door and across the yard. He tore out after her but Claire was highly motivated and, he had to admit, he had a hard time keeping up. Once they reached house a feeling of urgency set in. What they were seeing was unmistakable. The sun had started to set but neither of them could mistake the orange glow from inside Claire's childhood home. Fire. They approached just in time to find Henderson standing over Ada and the kids with a gun in his hand.

Eliot knew he was protective and he'd seen Claire be defensive before but nothing he knew of her prepared him for the look on her face when she realized Henderson had a gun on her family.

"Oh _fuck no_," she muttered as the flames from the house reflected in her eyes. Though, Eliot admitted, he wasn't sure he'd actually seen a reflection. It might have just been pure rage burning it's way through her. She took a few steps toward the house out of pure instinct. Eliot quickly grabbed her arm as gently as he could.

"Claire, stop and think for a minute. You rush in there now, he'll shoot you." Eliot said softly as he tapped his comm and turned it on. "Nate, we got a problem."

_"Let me guess, Henderson's there?" _Nate asked knowingly. _"We're on our way. Stall him."_

"I've got an idea," Eliot told her. "You go around the back of the house. The kitchen is through the back door, right?"

She nodded. "Fire extinguisher is under the sink." How she'd known what he was thinking he'd never know.

"Good, you go around the back, put out the flames. I'll get him away from your aunt and the kids," Eliot told her. The flames appeared to be in the living room, just behind a broken window. If Eliot had to guess, Henderson had thrown a Molotov Cocktail through the front window.

Claire caught his gaze and kissed him quickly. "Be careful," she told him just before she quietly took off around the back of the house.

Eliot tried to take in the details of the situation. Ada was standing in front of both children and Henderson's gun was aimed at her. Not the kids. Everette was no where to be found and Eliot thought he recalled him being needed at the store while the insurance people assessed the damage from yesterday's fire.

Henderson had his back to the front steps, and Eliot stepped softly. Henderson was breathing so loudly that it gave Eliot some extra cover for any noise he might have made. When he was close enough, he wrapped his arms around Henderson from behind and threw him to the ground. The gun was knocked out of his hand and bounced a few feet away. Henderson attempted to wrestle himself free of Eliot but while the man may have had a strong backhanded slap, he certainly wasn't any where close to a match for Eliot. Eliot got him into a choke hold after Henderson had tried his best to gauge out Eliot's eyes. Eliot continued the pressure, just enough to knock the man unconscious, until he went limp in his arms. Eliot left Henderson where he'd dropped and then disarmed the gun before placing it on the porch railing.

The fire in the living room dimmed and Eliot could hear the faint sounds of a fire extinguisher from inside the house. He ran to Ada and the kids to check on them. All were fine physically but otherwise distraught. Ada collapsed against Eliot in a fit of tears and he leaned against the house and simply held her. He didn't know the woman well but she'd just been through more than any person should. She'd been strong for her children but now that they were out of danger she couldn't keep it together. The front door opened and Claire stepped out.

Her young cousins ran to her and she wasted no time scooping both of them up and retreating to the swing on the far end of the porch. Her eyes met Eliot's with clear relief and gratitude shining in them. He was alive and safe and so was her family. Siren's wailed in the distance for the second time that day and within minutes two squad cars and Lucille were racing down the gravel drive.

Before Lucille had even fully stopped Everette had jumped out and was sprinting toward the porch. He ran straight to Eliot and Ada. Eliot assured him everyone was fine and passed Ada over to her husband, who eagerly wrapped his arms around her and then kissed the top of her head. He caught Eliot's eye and mouthed the words "Thank you." Eliot nodded and then made his way down the steps to meet the officers just arriving on the scene. He directed one to Henderson and advised they cuff him right away and then described exactly what he and Claire had discovered when they approached the house.

Once they were done with Eliot, Nate, Sophie, Parker, and Hardison approached him.

"Everyone okay?" Nate asked.

"Physically, yes," Eliot said with a sigh. "Not sure otherwise. Was this the plan?" Eliot asked Nate with a glare. He was still irritated at his approval of Claire's actions earlier in the day. Nate didn't realize it, really, but his approval had a lot of power.

"No, honestly, it wasn't," Nate assured him. "I really just thought he'd show up and try to manhandle Claire, obviously with you over her shoulder to keep it from getting out of hand, he'd get arrested, they'd search his vehicle and he'd go away for a very long time."

"Search his vehicle?" Eliot asked.

Parker nodded. "While you guys distracted him outside of the restaurant I found Henderson's fake financial records in the safe in his office."

"And you planted those in the car?" Eliot asked.

"Not just the financials," Sophie added with a smirk.

"I may have also snuck his wife and daughter's medical records out of the hospital and placed those in his backseat," Parker admitted with a grin. "Maybe. I put them in a pile of documents marked 'shred' and I'm pretty sure hospital records are supposed to be confidential and probably not stolen and destroyed."

"Yeah, I wouldn't think so," Hardison said as he fist bumped Parker. "Excellent."

"Yeah, well, he hit my sister," Parker said in a dark tone as she glared at Henderson's still unconscious form. "Alice and Catherine are very close."

None of them even bothered to remind her that Alice and Parker were one and the same. The fact that Parker cared that much about a person she didn't really know very well was too remarkable to ruin.

Henderson groaned as he came to and he immediately spotted Nate and Sophie chatting with Eliot. Claire descended the steps and joined the group, since she'd handed her cousins off to their very grateful parents. Henderson took one look at his supposed business associates standing side by side with his business rivals and began screaming.

"You!" He yelled as he fought against the deputies that were now holding him back and leading him toward the squad car. "They did this! They played me! It was them!"

"Yeah, Mr. Henderson, whatever you say," one of the deputies said as he rolled his eyes at the man. "We've got five witnesses that saw you aiming the gun at two children and their mother but _they_ did it. Get in the damn car."

Claire smirked as the officer forced Henderson to duck his head and shoved him the backseat. He was still yelling and raving like a lunatic as the car pulled away. Now everyone saw what she saw. They knew exactly who he was and there was public proof to back it all up. She looked around at the group of thieves and grifters she'd somehow gotten mixed up in and took in the feelings coursing through her. As the police took Henderson away, she thought she _might_ understand why Eliot did what he did and why he'd chosen _these_ people for his family.

"Thank you," Claire told them all as she leaned into Eliot's side and he wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. "All of you. This means everything to me."

"Anytime," Nate told her with a smile and a nod. "It's what we do."


	37. Part Three, Chapter Thirteen: Freedom

**A/N: **the song is by Miranda Lambert, called "House That Built Me". I do not own it though I did tweak the lyrics a bit to better fit Claire.

Chapter Thirteen: Freedom

The next morning, Eliot and Nate met with Mr. Speedman and Kip one last time. They handed them the deed and the keys to Henderson's much larger restaurant and officially turned Speedy's Barbecue back over to the family that truly deserved it. Mr. Speedman was ecstatic and Kip was very grateful. His father's health had been an issue since he lost the restaurant and Kip firmly believed his weakened health was a direct result of depression. They also gave Mr. Speedman a good percentage of a pay out Hardison had managed to snatch from Henderson's accounts.

They also gave some of Henderson's money to Claire's family to help with their now damaged house and business. The rest they gave to Henderson's wife and daughter to help them start a new life without their jailer. Claire had insisted on being present for that visit. It was good she was too, the little girl didn't really understand what was going on and Claire had handled her perfectly. She knew just what to say to get through to the little girl who didn't quite understand that her father had treated her any different than anyone else's father. It was all she knew, so wasn't it the same for everyone else? It was a question that had stumped Nate and given Eliot pause. He wasn't quite sure how to address it. But Claire…Claire understood.

"This means, you only have to smile when you feel like it, little one," Claire told her gently. "And you won't have to cover up bruises anymore. In fact, the next time you get a bruise it'll be because you fell on the playground or hit your funny bone." Claire smiled and winked at the girl before she softly and playfully poked her side. The girl giggled and wiggled away. "It means, the only time you have to pretend to be someone else is when you're in those pageants you're so good at."

The little girl beamed at her and then gave her mother a hesitant look. "Is that true, mommy?"

Mrs. Henderson sniffed and smiled warmly at her daughter. "Yes, baby."

The little girl considered that for a moment and then threw herself at Claire with a huge hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

For someone who'd ever really been around children all that much, Eliot thought, she was extremely good at relating to them. The little girl had hugged Claire for the longest time before she and her mother left. As the pair walked away Claire turned with a bright watery smile and wrapped her arms around Eliot. He returned the hug and kissed the top of her head. She didn't say anything but he knew that, of all of Henderson's victims, his wife and daughter were the ones that had gotten under her skin the most. Helping them had taken a huge weight off of her shoulders. He could see how much lighter she felt.

But handing over the restaurant to Kip and his dad and finally putting Henderson away, meant there wasn't much else for any of them to do except enjoy the first official day of the Festival.

Parker dragged Hardison off in the direction of the funnel cakes, Nate and Sophie went to go look at the handcrafted items for sale at various tents, and Eliot and Claire headed toward the grandstand for the music. To their surprise Kip was on stage and the minute he saw Claire approach he called her up to join him.

Claire headed toward the stage but this time she wasn't content to let Eliot stand in the crowd. She made him stand under the tent with the sound equipment and the technicians. At least she hadn't tried to make him play or sing with her, he thought with a sigh of relief. He was surprised that she and Kip actually performed a couple of original pieces. They'd written a handful of songs together before Eliot and his crew arrived. It turned out and both songs they played were amazing. When that was done, Claire and Eliot walked further down the street to the car show. Claire had saved that for last. All the muscle car buffs in the area brought their cars to show off at the far end of the festival. They parked in the local bank parking lot and stood by their cars, eager to brag.

Eliot had started detailed conversations with nearly every owner in the place. He smiled more in public than she'd seen in a while. He smiled at her quite frequently but with others she didn't see much of his smile. So, she treasured it every time, even if she understood none of what he was saying. They'd spent nearly an hour and a half talking to the men at the car show. Eliot was practically giddy.

Claire chuckled as they walked down the Festival route hand in hand. "Having fun?" she asked.

"You didn't tell me about the car show," Eliot said as he craned his neck to look back at the cars one last time.

She laughed lightly at his awe before she spoke. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

"This isn't really what I expected from a Barbecue Festival," Eliot told her honestly. "I mean yes, there's barbecue but beyond that it's more like…"

"A fair?" she asked knowingly.

"Yes! Exactly. There's rides on the other end for the kids, hand crafted merchandise for sale, pottery, funnel cakes, and," he stopped and glanced down at the guide he swiped earlier. "Am I reading this right? Pig races?"

"You read that right," Claire told him. "They set up a course on the other end across from the rides. They number the pigs, and the pigs race through the course."

"Okay, that clenches it, I love your home town," Eliot admitted.

Claire laughed and sighed contentedly. "Me too. I've missed it." She caught sight of her uncle and her aunt manning the sound equipment at the smaller stage, dubbed the "local stage" in the guide Eliot had, and pointed discretely. "I've missed my uncle too." Everette and Ada kissed across the sound equipment, for no other reason than they wanted to, and Eliot had to admit her family seemed near perfect. "It's going to be hard to leave," she admitted. "Especially now that I know Ada and the kids."

"Well," Eliot said hesitantly. He knew offering this meant delaying her coming back to Boston with him. "Then give yourself a little more time with them. You don't have to leave right away."

"True, I guess. I'm just afraid to stay in one place for too long," she said honestly. "I'm afraid of who or what might find me if I do, and I've been here for over a month as it is."

"Well, what if I stay with you?" Eliot asked her. "Nate will give us a break for at least two weeks before the next job. I can stay here with you and you can show me more of the town. Plus, if anyone shows up who's not supposed to be here then I'll promptly show them the town line."

She chuckled and released his hand to loop her arm through his. "I'd appreciate that, but…let me think about it," she told him. "I'll admit the idea is tempting."

"You haven't seen your family in years, Claire," he said as he rested a hand on top of hers as it rested on the crook of his arm. "No one would blame you for wanting to spend as much time as possible with them."

"I'm not worried about me," she admitted. "I'm worried about them. I haven't exactly been good luck for them so far."

"That's not true," Eliot corrected her. "Without you, Henderson would still be running this town and he would eventually have put your uncle out of business. You showing up now was actually _very_ lucky."

"I suppose," she said reluctantly as she smiled softly at him and then rested her head on his shoulder as they walked. It struck him, suddenly, just how much they resembled a normal couple in this moment. He'd been allowed very little normalcy lately so this moment of quiet was really wonderful. It almost made him wish that this pretend life they'd built here, could be his reality.

As they passed the Local Stage, Everette took the microphone.

"Where you going, girl?" He called as he pointed to Claire in the crowd. She looked over at the stage and rolled her eyes.

"Am I supposed to be somewhere?" She yelled over the small crown surrounding the Local Stage.

"Yeah, up here, performing," Everette answered.

She gave her uncle an exasperated look. "I didn't sign up for a set."

"You didn't have to," Everette told her. "I did, and I'm demanding that my niece come up here and play just _one_ of her songs. You performed two on the Grandstand with Kip. Just one here on the Local Stage should be easy after that."

Claire realized he was right and she wouldn't be getting out of it. She shook her head with an amused smile and then walked toward the stage. She took Eliot with her again and made him stand with Ava at the sound board.

Claire held out her hand to borrow Everette's guitar and he immediately handed it over. She put the strap around her and then cleared her throat nervously as she stood behind the microphone.

"So, I do have this one song…" she told him.

The small crowd that had gathered clapped encouragingly.

"It's been a long time since I've been home and before I showed up on Uncle Ev's door step about a month ago I worried that when I finally made it home, he wouldn't be there," she said as she started to introduce the song. "I imagined another family was living in the house I called home for so many years and making new memories. And then I imagined what I would say if I went home and someone else was living in my family's house. Naturally, I had to turn it into a song. So, here we go, this song is called 'House That Built Me'. Hope yall like it."

Eliot saw Nate and Sophie join the crowd and then as the musical intro started Hardison and Parker appeared. Eliot then turned his attention back to Claire. The song was slow and haunting. How she managed to express that just by playing an acoustic guitar was a mystery to him.

_"__I know they say you can't go home again.  
I just had to come back one last time.  
Ma'am, I know you don't know me from Adam.  
But these hand prints on the front steps are mine.  
Up those stairs, in that little back bedroom  
Is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar.  
And I bet you didn't know, under that live oak,  
My favorite dog is buried in the yard._

_I thought if I could touch this place or feel it,  
This brokenness inside me might start healing.  
Out here it's like I'm someone else,  
I thought that maybe I could find myself.  
If I could just come in I swear I'll leave.  
Won't take nothing but a memory  
From the house that built me._

_Grandma cut out pictures of houses for years.  
From 'Better Homes and Garden' magazines.  
Plans were drawn, and concrete poured,  
And nail by nail and board by board  
Grandpa gave life to Grandma's dream._

_I thought if I could touch this place or feel it  
This brokenness inside me might start healing.  
Out here it's like I'm someone else,  
I thought that maybe I could find myself.  
If I could just come in I swear I'll leave.  
Won't take nothing but a memory  
From the house that built me._

_You leave home, you move on and you do the best you can.  
I got lost in this old world and forgot who I am._

_I thought if I could touch this place or feel it  
This brokenness inside me might start healing.  
Out here it's like I'm someone else,  
I thought that maybe I could find myself.  
If I could walk around I swear I'll leave.  
Won't take nothing but a memory  
From the house that, built me."_

During the second verse, Claire's voice broke just slightly. The emotions she sang in the song were raw and real and he could hear her pain when she sang about her grandparents that she'd never get to see again. Everette reached out and placed a hand on his niece's shoulder for support as she continued the song. Eliot felt his throat tightening and a brief pain in his chest as he watched her. What was that? Sadness on her behalf? Pride that she'd managed to express it and express it so damn well? Or was it a wish to fix it all for her? A wish that he could bring back her grandparents just to give her some closure or a wish that seeing her home again might help her find the girl who got lost all those years ago? He decided it was all of it. He was feeling all of those things. More than that, he was blown away by her voice and her talent. The crowd in front of the stage had doubled since she'd started singing. People were drawn to her. Her voice was hypnotic and haunting and beautiful. There was so much soul and heartbreak in her tone. It was hard to ignore.

When the song was over the crowd roared. Including, Eliot noticed, Nate, Sophie, Parker and, surprisingly, Hardison. Claire bowed briefly before she handed the guitar back to her uncle and then made her way to Eliot.

"Now, that I have embarrassed myself," she said with a self-deprecating grin. "Let's get out of here."

"You didn't embarrass yourself," Eliot assured her. "And where would we go?"

She pulled out her phone and showed Eliot a text from Kip. "Kip's throwing a party out at his place. He just sent out a mass text. Looks like he invited everyone he knows."

They descended the stage and Eliot led her toward his crew.

Claire smiled awkwardly at them. She wasn't sure what to think of them hearing such an emotional performance from her.

Hardison cleared his throat and nodded in her direction. Careful not to show too much emotion. "You did good up there, Arm Candy."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Thanks. So," she said as she addressed the group. "Any of you ever been to a small town throw down?"

"A what-what?" Sophie asked with a furrowed brow and a disgusted face.

Claire chuckled. "A party, country style."

"No, I most certainly have not," Sophie said with a smirk.

"Kip's throwing one in about twenty minutes." She held up her phone with her text messages displayed. "He told me to invite you guys." Everyone but Eliot looked wary of the situation. Claire laughed and continued. "There's free beer."

"Oh, well why didn't you just say so in the first place?" Hardison asked. "Where's this party?"

"On Kip's land. The back acreage where he has no neighbors," Claire told them.

"It's possible to have absolutely no neighbors around here?" Parker asked.

"Definitely," Claire answered. "Kip's land is the furthest from any neighbors at all though. That's why he always hosts the throw downs."

"How many of those has he had in the month you've been here?" Eliot asked curiously. She seemed to know an awful lot about them.

"He has one or two a week," she answered with a shrug. "They're usually pretty good fun."

Claire's interpretation of 'pretty good fun' was an understatement, Eliot could tell. Claire had a wild streak, he'd known it the minute he met her. She defied everyone in Moreau's crew that should have scared her, and he'd seen her down far too many shots than a person her size should physically be able to. And that was when she was much too thin, in his opinion. He remembered wondering then how a girl of Nineteen had built up such an impressive alcohol tolerance. She'd never explained but he had a feeling Claire's teenage years were no where near as innocent as his had been. Though, his weren't as innocent as they should have been either, he admitted.

"Pretty good fun as in that night I snuck you out of that hotel in Sydney and you proceeded to dance on the bar or pretty good fun like that night in Ibiza where you some how forgot your shirt in the bathroom?" Eliot asked her with a grin and pointed look.

She laughed without shame and gave him a thoughtful look. "More like Sydney than Ibiza but both were enjoyable. Unfortunately, throw downs don't normally involve Crown or else they might lean more toward Ibiza. I can't promise I won't eventually lose my shirt, though," she said as she tossed a wink at him.

He chuckled and shook his head. God, she was a mess.

"So, who's in?" She asked the group.

"Sorry, not me. All I want is a glass of wine and to get these heels off of my feet," Sophie said with an apologetic smile. All eyes then turned to Nate.

"Oh, um I would, but I don't want to," he said quickly and briskly.

"Fair enough," Claire said as she gave him an amused look and then turned to Parker and Hardison. "What about you two?"

"I'm in," Parker said immediately. "Lots of people, not paying attention to me, with lots of pockets. Should be fun."

"If she's in then I'm in," Hardison agreed.

"Great," Claire said with a nod. "You guys can ride with us."

"How? The cab of your truck would fit three people at most," Hardison said in confusion.

"You can ride in the back," Claire said as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and breezed past him.

"The back? You mean the truck bed?" Hardison asked as he trailed behind her. "Oh_ hell_ no."

This was going to be interesting, Eliot thought. Hardison at a party out in the _true_ country was a sight Eliot never thought he'd see. Should he take pictures for black mail?

_Probably_, he thought with a smirk.


	38. Part 3 Chapter 14: Small Town Throw Down

Chapter Fourteen: Small Town Throw Down

* * *

Despite his protests, Hardison had been forced to sit in the back. It was Claire's truck, so she wasn't going to sit in the back, and she would only let Eliot drive (other than herself of course) which left Parker and there was no way Hardison was going to ask her to sit in the back. His Nana raised him right.

"Can you pull up right next to Kip's truck?" Claire asked as she directed Eliot to actually drive into the pasture. "We're gonna drop the tail gate and let him use the bed for part of the stage."

"A stage _and _alcohol?" Eliot asked with a teasing grin. "Are we sure this is a good idea for you?"

She laughed and shoved him playfully. "Shut up."

Eliot parked the truck and they all piled out. Another truck pulled up next to them as he dropped the tail gate and Claire ran to meet the driver.

"Well, I do declare if it isn't Vick Williams. I'm surprised you decided to grace us with your presence," Claire said teasingly as she hugged the much taller man. He was taller and broader than Eliot and looked as though he might be able to take Eliot in a fight.

"I had no choice. Kip wants to play and I'm the one with the sound system," Vick said with a good natured laugh. "Thanks for letting us borrow your truck, Lanier."

"Not a problem," she answered. "Come on, let me introduce you to some people."

"Who's that guy?" Hardison asked Eliot with a quirked brow. "He's…jacked."

"Guys, this is Vick. He's a friend of Kip's from Nashville," Claire said before she motioned to the other three people. "Vick, this is Hardison, Parker, and—"

"The husband," Vick interrupted her as he reached out and shook Eliot's hand. "We've heard a lot about you, Roy. Good to meet you."

"You have?" Eliot asked as he returned the handshake. "What have you heard?" He wasn't aware Claire made a habit of talking about him to other people.

"She likes to brag, your wife," Vick said with a shrug. "I run a gym back in Nashville and I tried to teach her some self defense moves but to my surprise she didn't need 'em. She said you taught her everything she knows."

"The word 'everything' makes it sound like I know more than I do," Claire said with a chuckle. "I know just enough."

"She's a good student," Eliot said with a smirk as he gave Claire a proud glance. "She picks it up fast."

"You know, it's funny, you're not built like a baseball player," Vick said observantly. "You're built like a fighter. You ever been involved in MMA? You look familiar to me."

Hardison, Eliot, and Parker exchanged a look. All three were thinking of the same job, he knew.

"Nah, nothing serious. Maybe an amateur league or two a while back," Eliot offered dismissively, hoping this conversation wouldn't go any further.

"Ah, yeah, I traveled through a few of those too once in a while. Probably saw you some place and didn't even know it," Vick said with a nod.

"Yeah, that's probably it," Eliot said with a light forced chuckle.

Claire rejoined him and leaned close to him whisper. "That's not it, is it?"

"Not even close."

She laughed. "You guys do get around, don't you?"

"You have no idea."

"You seen Kip yet?" Vick asked.

"Not yet," Claire answered. "We just got here."

"If you see him, let him know I'm gonna go ahead and get the sound and the drum kit set up," Vick said as he went back to his truck.

"Will do!" Claire shouted as another car came into view. "Oh!" She turned back to Vick excitedly. "Kip didn't tell me _she_ was coming!" Vick grinned broadly and nodded.

"I made sure of it," Vick said with a chuckle. "That boy will make a move yet."

"We will see to it, right?" Claire asked Vick with a grin.

"Teamwork makes the dream work, Lanier," Vick replied with a wink.

"Who are you talking about?" Eliot asked.

"Kip's got this girl in Nashville that he's been trying to get up the nerve to ask out for months now. But he's still kinda shaky thanks to the ex-wife. Who, no matter what Kip thinks, mistreated him as much as he thinks he mistreated her," Claire told him. There was obvious disdain for the ex-wife in her tone. "Anyway, she came down a couple of weeks ago for one of the throw downs and she's absolutely the sweetest. Super talented too. And Kip is so smitten. It's adorable. I told Vick that we needed to force Kip's hand."

"And that's her car?" Eliot asked.

"Sure is," Claire said excitedly. "Kip says she's new to the Nashville scene. Her brother owns a studio in Memphis, I think, so that's where she's been until the last six months or so."

A sinking feeling started to gather in Eliot's gut. No way, he was that unlucky. It couldn't be. The car stopped several feet away from them and Claire waved as the driver's side door opened. A hand waved back and then Claire took off to meet the driver.

"Kaye Lynn!" She called excited as she reached the car. "Girl, no one told me you were coming!"

Eliot froze. Well, shit.

Hardison and Parker chuckled from their spots next to him and gave him knowing looks.

"Kaye Lynn as in…Memphis Kaye Lynn?" Parker asked him knowingly.

"Damn, bruh, talk about a small world," Hardison said with a smirk. "Bet you never thought the ex and the Mrs. Would meet face to face, huh?"

"Shup up, Hardison," Eliot muttered as he reluctantly trudged forward.

He was not looking forward to this at all. The closer he got the more recognition he saw on Kaye Lynn's face. He stopped beside of Claire and watched as Claire opened her mouth to introduce him before Kaye Lynn interrupted.

"Eliot?" She asked in disbelief.

Claire's eyes widened and her lips parted slightly before she spoke. "I'm sorry, you two know each other?"

"Uh, yeah," Kaye Lynn said with a pleasantly surprised smile. She motioned to Hardison and Parker who were now standing behind Eliot. "They did a favor for me a brother a while back."

"Did they?" Claire asked with a thin smile. There was no emotion that he could read in Claire's eyes and her smile was neutral enough that he couldn't tell if it was genuine.

"Yeah, you remember me telling you about Mitchell Kirkland?" Kaye Lynn asked her.

"The has been that tried to steal your songs?" Claire asked. Realization dawned on her face and her thin smile grew. "Let me guess, they got them back for you?"

"And then some," Kaye Lynn told her.

Claire then gave Kaye Lynn another once over. This time seeing her through someone else's eyes. Feisty, country crooning, damsel in distress. Her eyes then flicked to Eliot, who actually looked nervous, and she put two and two together. Kaye Lynn _was_ Eliot's type. And he did say there was a woman that reminded him of Claire. He'd told her that much.

"I think I understand," Claire said with a smirk.

"So," Kaye Lynn said as she motioned between Eliot and Claire. "You two are a, uh, thing?"

"Something like that," Claire said with a chuckle. Why did she look so calm? Eliot was worried. She was taking this far too well. "Eliot and I have known each other for a very long time."

Kaye Lynn nodded. "I always got the feeling that he was thinking of someone else when he was looking at me. Now, I get it," Kaye Lynn said thoughtfully. "But I thought you said your husband's name was Roy?"

"Alias," Claire told her as if that one word explanation would be enough.

To his surprise, Kaye Lynn accepted it with a slow nod. "Right, so I guess I should call him Roy for the rest of the night then?"

"Around anyone besides, Kip, yeah," Eliot answered. It was the first time he'd dared to speak since he walked over. Hardison and Parker were watching the exchange between Claire and Kaye Lynn with surprised yet eager expressions. He had to admit he was thrown off too. They were being so…reasonable.

"I am loving this outfit," Claire said as she looped her arm through Kaye Lynn's and led her back to where Vick was setting up the equipment.

"Oh, thanks! It's new. I got a publishing deal since I was here last," she said proudly. "Thought I'd celebrate with some new boots and an outfit or two."

"I can't believe my eyes," Hardison said with a grin. "Are they actually…friends?"

"Oh man, I thought there was gonna be a catfight," Parker said with a disappointed expression. "I love those."

Eliot should have been relieved, but he wasn't.

"It's not just me, right?" Eliot asked them. "This is weird, isn't it?"

"Absolutely."

"It defies all laws of nature."

In the distance Eliot saw Kip walking across the pasture and he hurriedly caught up with Claire and Kaye Lynn.

"Listen, ladies," Eliot said with his most charming smile. "Can we maybe not mention to Kip the history here?"

"You mean that the two of you slept together?" Claire asked Eliot pointedly.

"Why would Kip care?" Kaye Lynn asked. "I mean if Claire's fine with it and I'm fine with it, why wouldn't Kip be?"

"Yes, Eliot," Claire said with a teasing smirk as she feigned ignorance. "Why wouldn't he be?"

"I—It—well—I just thought most people might think that this situation would be a bit awkward, you know and I just think it's not something that should be aired out in public," Eliot said as she struggled to come up with an answer.

"And also," Parker said as she joined them. "Because Kip has a massive crush on Kaye Lynn. I heard Claire say that to Eliot earlier."

Eliot winced and huffed. "Yes, thank you, Parker."

"He does?" Kaye Lynn asked. "Really? I—I thought about asking him for coffee once but then I didn't know if he was ready for that. His ex really did a number on him, I think."

"She did," Claire confirmed. "She was a real bitch. Not that I ever met her, but I can tell. I know her type. And yes, Kip does like you. He's too nervous to ask you out. It's actually adorable. But you have to do us all a favor and pretend you don't know. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone."

"Got it," Kaye Lynn said with a nod. "I didn't hear that and I won't discuss the fact that I had sex with Eliot." Kaye Lynn smirked at him. Claire gave Eliot a mischievous glance as well.

"Probably a good idea," Claire offered with a very serious nod. "We wouldn't want people to think Eliot was a man whore or anything."

They were messing with him. They were absolutely torturing him on purpose.

"Definitely not," Kaye Lynn agreed. "We absolutely cannot ruin his reputation."

"Not to mention the gossip that would come from it," Claire told her. "Can you imagine what the little old biddies at the local beauty parlor would think? It'd be a full blown scandal."

"Okay," Eliot said as he rolled his eyes and sighed. "I get it, you can stop now."

"Oh, darlin'," Claire said as she imitated his accent. "We're just looking out for you."

"No, you're both evil, that's what it is," Eliot said as the panic in his chest faded. Once it was gone he was able to grin at them knowingly. "It's really not funny."

"Oh no," Kaye Lynn said with a loud laugh. "It totally is."

"What did you think we were going to do, Eliot?" Claire asked him with a chuckle. "Rip each other's hair out over you?"

"Oh, were we supposed to do that?" Kaye Lynn asked jokingly. "Cause I'll take you on right now if you want."

"You think you could, huh?" Claire asked with a smirk.

"Please, I'm a scrapper what I lack in skill I make up with in endurance," Kaye Lynn told her.

"Little Girl, I got like ten pounds on you, I could throw you real easy," Claire said with a quirked eyebrow.

"You could try," Kaye Lynn said with a challenging grin.

"Alright," Eliot said with a laugh. "This is about a second from actually happening and, at the risk of disappointing Parker, should we change the topic?" These girls would get into a fight just for the bragging rights. He knew them both.

As luck would have it, Kip made it to them at just that moment.

"I see you've all met, Kaye Lynn," Kip said as he joined them. "Thanks for coming, Kaye," Kip said as he leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"Wouldn't have missed it. It's been a real rare treat so far," Kaye Lynn said as she exchanged an amused look with Claire. "As it turns out, _Roy_, here, is real fun to tease."

"Yeah, I could see that," Kip agreed with a grin. "He takes himself a bit too seriously. Those are always the best ones to mess with."

Claire laughed loudly and nodded her agreement. "Oh god, you have no idea how exactly right you are."

"Vick almost got the sound system set up?" Kip asked Claire curiously.

"Yeah, I think so," she answered. "We'll just go check on him for you." Claire nudged Kaye Lynn toward Kip and then led Eliot and the others away. As they walked away she wrapped her arms around Eliot and then placed a kiss to his jawline. "You're adorable when you're nervous and panicked. You know that, don't you?"

"Are we allowed to call Eliot adorable?" Hardison asked from behind them.

Eliot turned to glare at him as he wrapped his arms around Claire in return. "She is, _you're not_."

"What about me?" Parker asked.

"You either."

"Good to know," Parker said with a nod.


End file.
